


Ours

by philaetos



Category: Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Baz is very closeted, Getting Together, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, I’ll probably add more tags as I go, M/M, Niall is trans, Secret Relationship, Simon is very oblivious, Transphobia, Watford Sixth Year, internalized homophobia is Baz’s main personality trait in this tbh, that should be it with the not so nice tags, the transphobia is against Niall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:20:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 51
Words: 66,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29473863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philaetos/pseuds/philaetos
Summary: If Baz has learnt one thing in his 16 years of existence, it’s that some things are better kept hidden—————————————“Seems like there's always someone who disapprovesThey'll judge it like they know about me and youAnd the verdict comes from those with nothing else to doThe jury's out, but my choice is youSo don't you worry your pretty, little mindPeople throw rocks at things that shineAnd life makes love look hardThe stakes are high, the water's roughBut this love is ours”— Ours, Taylor Swift
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 352
Kudos: 154





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!
> 
> I’ll try updating this daily, but I’m writing for my ‘Studies’ series as well so I’m not 100% sure, though I have 5 more chapters ready at the moment so it should, hopefully, be fine ^^ 
> 
> I hope you’ll like this

**Baz**

It’s nothing, really.

It’s just a pin.

And yet, in my hand, it seems like the deadliest of weapons.

It could fill a room with screams. It could bring tears to so many pairs of eyes. It could cause bruises and shed blood. 

It could destroy.

But the thing is…

If it destroyed anything, anyone… It would be me.

I close my hand around it and slip it inside my pocket, shielding it from view.

Some things are better kept that way. 

Kept _away_.

**…**

I took it with me to school.

It’s stupid, it’s not like I’m going to pin it on one of my clothes or my bag or pencil case or anything. It’ll stay hidden. As it should be. 

But I still felt like I had to take it.

Sometimes, after making sure no one is around, I like taking it out of my pocket and looking at it. It looks like the happiest day of my life. It looks like freedom. 

My fingers cover it on their own accord.

It looks like my father’s disappointment. It looks like a pen stroke on the ‘ _Grimm_ ’ in ‘ _Grimm-Pitch_ ’.

I put it back inside my pocket.

**…**

I always keep it on me, when I leave the room, and even when I’m in the room, but always dissimulated, like the shameful thing it is.

No one can see it.

Never.

Especially not Snow.

He’d…

Merlin knows what he’d do if he saw it. 

He’d think I’m disgusting for even having it. 

He’d tell me to keep it away. 

Maybe he’d even tell me to get rid of it.

I twist it in my hand.

Fuck, I wish I _could_ get rid of it. 

I want nothing more than to get rid of it.

But it’s not that simple.

I tried, I really tried.

I locked it in a drawer in my room, back at home, and went out the whole day, giving fake smiles and having polite conversations. I was completely torn inside, missing it so much I wanted to scream.

But I continued.

I gave more fake smiles and had more polite conversations.

I pretended I had never owned such a thing, and the proud way my father patted my shoulder, just before I went back to my room, almost made the hollow feeling in my chest, as I reached inside my pocket and felt nothing, worth it.

**…**

I’m jabbing my thigh with the sharp needle of the pin through the cotton of my pyjamas bottoms. It stings.

I prick myself harder, so hard the pin stay stuck in the flesh of my thigh. I didn’t push it all the way through, part of the needle is still visible, but at least it _hurts_.

Physically, for once.

That was the point.

I take the pin out of my leg, wincing at the stinging pain. It won’t hurt for long. Vampire skin.

I wish my vampirism was able to ease the pain in my head, in my heart, as well as it does the pain in my flesh.

**…**

Simon Snow is a nuisance.

You’d think that having a girlfriend and all that, he’d spend his evenings away from the room, sneaking out to the Wavering Woods or the White Chapel or wherever it is that straight couples go to hook up since they can’t do it in their dorms.

It would give me some bloody peace, if he would just go and put his hands up Wellbelove’s skirt.

But he doesn’t.

He comes here, at the same time as he has done since first year, and is as loud as he has been since first year.

The only difference with first year is that his presence only irritates me more, now.

So, I usually go to the Catacombs, where I can be alone.

Well, alone with the rats. But they’re scared of me, so they don’t come and bother me. 

However tonight, for some reason, I don’t feel like going down to the Catacombs. It’s too cold there, in more way than one.

And my mother is there. Her tomb, really, but it’s still all I have left of her. It’s still her. And she wouldn’t like it if I took my pin out in front of her, I’m sure of that. She’d be as displeased as Father. 

So, I go to the remparts.

If I’m not going to bury myself underground, I might as well go up and feel the cold air of the night whip my hair around as I look down at the emptiness beneath me, on the other side of the stone wall. 

I wonder if vampire bones would mend shortly after being broken. If a punctured lung would heal quickly enough to breathe without difficulty just after the impact. If blood loss would be fatal. 

I hold the pin in my open palm, half over nothing, and half over the wall.

If a heart that already beats too slowly can stop. If the only harm that can come to it is to be shattered in a million pieces.

“Basil?” 

The high-pitched voice gives my heart a normal rate and makes me jump.

The pin is projected up in the air when I startle. It falls on the floor in a jingling of metal against stone, and it bounces, until it’s closer to Wellbelove than to me. 

I watch her crouch to pick it up in slow motion. 

It’s like the camera turned to her when she inserted herself into the story, and as she became its focus, she made herself the central character. I’m just a puppet on the side, with no real influence on the plot.

She takes the pin in her hand. She pulls my strings. 

Her eyebrows shoot up and my face falls.

“Basil,” she says again, in a different voice.

She gives me a sad look. 

“Is this...” she starts, but I have just enough strength in me to interrupt her.

“It’s none of your concern.”

Anger rings in my voice. 

Anger at Wellbelove, for having the nerve to come here and… and see this.

At myself, for not hiding it better, like I knew it was wise to do. 

At that stupid pin, for having ended up in my hand someday and decided it belonged here, with me.

She holds out her own hand, letting go of the puppet controller. My strings come loose, and I can approach her enough to snatch the pin from her. 

She looks even sadder.

“Baz, it’s alright.”

 _It’s alright_.

No it’s not.

It hasn’t been since…

It won’t ever be again.

I bump her shoulders when I walk past her, shoving the pin deep down my pocket. 

It should have never been out of it in the first place. 

“I won’t tell anyone,” Wellbelove adds under her breath. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after Baz-‘being gay is the bane of my existence’-Pitch, here’s Simon-‘I’m straight’-Snow

**Simon**

“Penny,” I say, looking everywhere but at her. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did, but you can ask me another one.”

“Did you…” Blood rushes to my cheeks. “Did you and Micah ever… You know…”

“Did we ever what, Simon?” she asks, and I can picture her looking at me with that inquiring look in her eyes. 

I move my chair closer to hers, and lean in so that I can whisper and still be heard. Fuck this isn’t a conversation we should be having in the library. 

“ _ Have sex _ ,” I eventually let out.

I’m sure my whole face is red, up to the roots of my hair and the tip of my ears. 

I look up at her, to see if she seems angry with me, but she just has both her eyebrows raised in surprise.

“We didn’t. I thought we might when I visited him in the summer but I lost my nerve and he didn’t seem ready either so we didn’t do anything,” she answers, her voice not even staggering a little, as if it’s completely normal and not embarrassing to talk about it.

I don’t know. Maybe it is. The people in the care homes are rather religious. No sex before marriage and all that, so it’s not like they’re giving us sex ed. 

“Why?” Penny asks, her eyes piercing. 

“Well… the thing is… Agatha and I… we…” I squirm. “We  _ tried  _ to do… some stuff…”

“What kind of ‘stuff’?” Penny interrupts me, still very calm.

I glance around. There’s no one too close to us, but the library isn’t empty either.

“Can we go talk about it somewhere else?”

She closes her textbook. “Sure,” she says with that voice that means _‘You’re being weird’._

**…**

**Penny**

Simon looks like he’s about to explode. 

He’s pacing in his room, as I sit on his bed -he’s annoying when I sit on Baz’s- and he looks even redder than he did in the library.

“Simon,” I say, making him stop in his tracks. “Come sit here.”

I pat the empty space next to me, and soon enough, he does as I said, sitting with his knees drawn up against his chest and his chin propped up on them. I have no idea how that can be comfortable but he sits that way often when we’re just talking.

“So, what did Agatha and you do?”

He chews on his lip.

“We… we got undressed. She was just in her panties and I was just in my boxers, and we… you know… we snogged and we… touched each other. And like, I touched her tits because that’s what you’re supposed to do, I guess? But it was just… weird… and she didn’t seem to like it either. And then she tried touching  _ me  _ and I let her you know because I was curious to know how it would feel to have someone  _ else  _ touch my dick but then she put her hand in my pants and started, you know, doing stuff, and I just… couldn’t get hard. Not even a little bit. At some point we stopped trying.”

He’s purposely avoiding my gaze, staring at his bed sheets like they’re the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. I can’t blame him. I do think sex shouldn’t be taboo, but even I have to admit I could have went on with my life perfectly well without ever hearing about my best friend’s dick.

But he needs help -he always does, he has been given so little guidance-, and he doesn’t have anyone else he could talk about. 

“Was it the first time you two tried having sex? You might have both been too nervous.”

He shakes his head. “No, we’ve tried…” he takes a second to think, furrowing his eyebrows. “Two times before that. Well we weren’t as naked those other times, she had kept her bra and sometimes even her shirt, but she also tried wanking me and… nothing. That’s why I’m even talking to you about it. My girlfriend touched my cock on  _ three separate occasions  _ and I never got hard. There must be something wrong with me. Agatha is the prettiest girl at school, it shouldn’t be so difficult getting hard,” he mumbles, irritation in his voice. 

I hold back a sigh -he wouldn’t appreciate.

He’s exhausting.

I told him  _ a million times  _ things weren’t working with Agatha. Maybe he’ll finally decide to break up with her now that he has seen they didn’t work in bed either.

“Have you considered that maybe you’re not attracted to Agatha?” 

It’s the logical conclusion anyone would come to but Simon…

Well, it’s Simon. If I don’t spell things out for him, he can take a lot of time understanding them. 

“But why wouldn’t I be?” His thumb goes up to his mouth. He starts biting his nail and the skin around it. “ _ She’s the prettiest girl at school, _ ” he says again, insistently, as if it were some kind of argument. “Everyone agrees on that. Half of the blokes in our year and the year below and above wish they were dating. There’s no way  _ I’m _ not attracted to her.”

I roll my eyes, I can’t help it.

He’s an idiot.

“Simon, first of all, you do know that it’s not because other people are attracted to Agatha that  _ you  _ have to be attracted to her, right?”

“But I am! She’s beautiful,” he argues, defensively.

Strange…

Why would he get defensive about this…

“Si, finding someone beautiful and being attracted to them isn’t the same thing. I think you’re beautiful and I’m not attracted to you.”

He blushes when I say he’s beautiful, a small smile tugging on his lips, as if he isn’t used to it.

It makes me a little sad. Maybe Agatha should pay him more compliments. She  _ is  _ his girlfriend after all -despite what I think about it.

At least for now.

“Yeah but Aggie… She’s really stunning.”

Crowley, he’s stubborn, isn’t he?

Though I can’t help but notice the hint of distress in his voice.

I reach out to lay my hands on either side of his knees.

“And that doesn’t necessarily mean you’re attracted to her, that’s my whole point Simon. I mean, I can see that she’s beautiful too, and I’m not attracted to her.”

He snorts. 

“You’re a  _ girl.  _ And straight. Of course you’re not attracted to her.  _ I’m  _ a bloke.  _ I’m  _ her boyfriend. I  _ should  _ be attracted to her. I… If I’m not attracted to a girl as beautiful as her, then who the fuck could I ever be attracted to? I can’t be  _ that  _ picky.”

I might have a little idea about that but I’m not sure he would like it or is even ready to hear it…

“Maybe she’s simply not your type,” I say, because it’s better than saying nothing… or than saying the other thing. “Don’t torment yourself over that too much, okay? It’s not a crime that you’re not attracted to her, though I think you should break up with her. It’s not working, Simon. I’m sure you’d be better off as friends than you are now.”

“You keep saying that,” he groans.

I pat his knee, giving him a big smile that I know will annoy him. “Probably because it’s right, Si.”

He glares at me, but not in a truly mean way. He has the shadow of a smile on his lips. 

“You’re not  _ always  _ right, Penelope.”

“I am most of the time, though. When was the last time  _ you  _ were right about something, uh?”

He flips me off.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Penny is a Good Friend

**Penny**

I don’t want to be doing this.

Absolutely  _ no _ part of me wants to be doing this. 

But it’s important. It’s for Simon. I can handle one uncomfortable conversation for Simon. He’s too thick to figure it out on his own, apparently, if I don’t give him a little push, he’ll just find himself another girlfriend and be surprised when he can’t fuck her.

As expected, she’s leaning against the wall of the library, the side of it that’s less visible from the building where the teachers are, a cigarette in her hand. That’s where they all go to smoke. It’s crazy the adults haven’t figured it out yet, they’re not being particularly discreet. 

She looks at me curious as she brings her cigarette to her lips.

“Penelope,” she says. “The books are on the other side of the wall.”

Well, this isn’t starting well. I repress the urge to roll my eyes.

“I came to talk to you, Keris.”

“Why?” she asks, looking at me sideways. “If it’s to tell me that you don’t like me visiting my girlfriend in your room, I already know, and I don’t care.”

I’m very much  _ aware  _ that she doesn’t care. I caught them snogging not even two days ago. They were only wearing their bras, for fuck’s sake. Thankfully the covers were pulled up to their waist, because I doubt they had many clothes still on on their bottom half.

“It’s not for that,” I say, trying to keep my irritation out of my voice. I don’t dislike Keris, that’s not the problem, she’s a rather nice girl. The problem is that Trixie and her keep coming to  _ our  _ room, never Keris’ to… hang out together, so  _ I  _ can never be in my room -voyeurism isn’t my thing. “I need your advice on something.”

She looks surprised. She taps the end of her fag, ashes falling down on the ground. “My advice? Why would  _ you  _ possibly need my advice, little miss perfect?”

“I have a friend…”

“Simon Snow,” she says excitedly, her eyes going a little wide. 

Sometimes I forget Simon is  _ the Chosen One _ for most of them. That he’s that hero with his sword, fighting the monsters that sometimes attack the school. 

To me, he’s just Simon. My clumsy best friend who eats so much butter it makes me sick to think about it and who still needs me to tie his tie for him after 5 years at this school. 

“How do you know it’s Simon?”

“No offense,” she says as she tucks a bleached strand of hair behind her ear, which tells me that she is going to say something vexing. “But you don’t have any friends except him, so it’s not hard to figure out who you’re talking about. But anyway, what’s up with the Chosen One?”

She takes a drag on her cigarette.

“Simon, Merlin, his name is Simon,” I mutter.

They’re all so annoying calling him  _ Chosen One _ . He hates it. He isn’t just the Chosen One, he’s  _ Simon _ , and it irritates him and me both that people don’t seem to want to see past that.

The only people that do are me, Agatha when she’s having one of her good days, and, as stupid as it may sound,  _ Baz Pitch. _

For all Simon complains about his roommate, at least Baz never put him on a pedestal or treated him differently because he was the Chosen One. 

“What’s up with  _ Simon _ , then?” she asks, rolling her eyes exaggeratingly.

Crowley, I hate this.

I came to Keris and not Trixie because I thought it’d be easier with her, she seems to hate me less than Trixie, but maybe it was the wrong choice…

“You can’t tell this to anyone. Seriously Keris. Feel free to make up the dirtiest rumour you want about me in exchange for your silence, but  _ don’t  _ gossip about what I’m going to tell you, okay?”

I need her advice because Trixie and her are the only gay people I know, but I don’t forget that she’s an insufferable gossip. I can’t have  _ this  _ become the thing people gossip about. Simon would be too upset.

I want to help him, not make things difficult for him.

Keris sighs. 

“My lips are sealed. Go on, I don’t have all day,” she says, waving the hand she holds her fag in.

It’s almost burnt the whole way to the filter.

I take a deep breath.

“Okay, so, as you know, he was dating Agatha…”

“Was?” she interrupted me. It’s going to take forever if she  _ interrupts me _ , Crowley. “They’ve broken up?”

“Yes. That’s not what matters here. Can you listen?”

She shuts up and looks at me. I take that as a yes.

“So he was dating Agatha, but he isn’t anymore, and I suspect that one of the reasons why their relationship didn’t work is that Simon might… not be straight.”

Keris looks taken aback. She throws her unfinished cigarette on the floor and steps on it to put it out.

“Do you think he’s gay  _ gay _ or do you think he likes both?” Her voice is more serious than it was before, so is her face.

If there’s anything I learnt from Trixie and Keris, it’s that it’s not easy being gay at Watford. I always see them being all over one another in my room, but everywhere else, anyone who saw them would think they were best friends, nothing more. 

She’s probably feeling some sympathy for Simon at the thought that he might be like that.

“I don’t know.” That’s not true. According to what he told me and what I could observe, I’d lean more towards ‘gay  _ gay _ ’, as Keris says, but I’m not going to tell her that. “It’s not what my problem is either, anyway.”

“You problem?” she snarls, glaring at me. Oh, fuck, she must think I don’t like it that Simon may not be straight. “Then what’s your  _ problem _ , little miss perfect?”

“I don’t think he’s realized it himself. He seems rather convinced that he’s straight, but the way he talked about his relationship with Agatha… and the way he talks about girls in general compared to how he talks about certain boys…”  _ A  _ certain boy, but I’m not going to tell her that. “Well it seems obvious to  _ me  _ that he must be attracted to blokes, but Simon can be really… dense, so I’d like to… try to help him figure it out or something… Do you have any idea how I could do that?”

Keris looks appeased by those words. 

She straightens her back, shifting to a less relaxed pose.

“Okay. So I think you shouldn’t try to force him to figure it out. These things… it’s complicated. And it’s  _ hard.  _ It was for me at least. I didn’t want to accept that I was into girls, even when I was clearly crushing hard on one. Trixie says she always knew she was a lesbian, but that doesn’t seem to be your friend’s case, so he might be more like me, which is why I’m telling you not to push him. Don’t go and tell him you think he’s gay, for example, you know?”

Ok, so I’ll keep my pamphlets about homosexuality for another time, got it.

“Yes, of course, that’s not what I was thinking about doing,” I answer, hoping my flush won’t show. 

She hums, but she doesn’t seem to buy it. She has the shadow of a smile on her lips for a split second, before she becomes focused and serious again.

“Also, try to make sure that he knows you’re a safe person to come out to. He might already know he likes boys but may not be comfortable with telling you. It can be so scary, even when you know deep down that the person won’t care and will still love you the same, so when you don’t know what they’d think, or worse, that you think they would hate you for it, it becomes terrifying. Either way, absolutely  _ don’t  _ try to force him out of the closet. Even if you think it’s harmless because you’re his friend and you already have a feeling he’s queer and you won’t tell anyone. It can really fuck someone up to come out before they’re ready to. Let him do it on his own time.”

I nod.

It doesn’t really answer my question, but it’s still good enough advice, and how adamant she sounds about not forcing Simon to come out comforts me a little about telling her all of this. She shouldn’t repeat it to everyone, which  _ would  _ out Simon -if he’s really gay or bi or whatever ot is that he may be-, and rather brutally on top of that.

“So you think I shouldn’t help him figure it out?”

“I think there’s no way you could do that without being too blunt about it. Even when it seems obvious to other people, it’s not necessarily obvious to you. In my case, my friend told me she knew I was attracted to girls, particularly Trixie,  _ months  _ before I came out to her, and I told her almost right after I figured it out. So the best advice I could give you is to give  _ him  _ the time to figure it out for himself.”

I’m not sure I like that answer, but Keris is the gay one, not me, so I should still probably trust her on that.

I nod once again.

“Okay. Thanks for helping me, really. I want to be here for Simon but I don’t know anything about… all of this.”

Keris gives me a smile, a real smile, that shows perfectly lined up, though rather yellow -probably because of all those cigarettes she smokes- teeth. 

I think it’s the first time she genuinely smiles at me.

“It’s nothing. If you ever need more advice, or if  _ Simon  _ does… You know how to find me.”


	4. Chapter Four

**Baz**

The pin is wrapped in a solitary sock, which is in a small box, which is concealed behind my jumpers, deep in my closet.

It’s hidden. Locked away. As it should have always been and as it shall remain.

Maybe I’ll suffer less if I stop paying attention to it.

**…**

Girlfriends are surprisingly easy to find at Watford.

After I gave one girl a smile for the first time, they all started gravitating around me like moths to a flame. Once I started giving out smiles and charming words to  _ several  _ girls, they were done for. 

It’s so simple.

Putting on an act, I can do that, it’s pretty much a second nature, it’s what I’ve done since my parents made me understand my vampirism was a dirty secret no one could know about. Since aunt Fiona told me time and time again that I’m a Pitch and that  _ Pitches aren’t weak _ ,  _ Pitches don’t cry _ .  _ Pitches are better, stronger, brighter, more powerful.  _

I barely remember who I am when I take off all of my masks.

It’s so hard.

I’m disgusted with myself whenever I make a girl blush. Tucking their hair behind their ears and  _ accidentally  _ brushing their hands as I walk past them makes me want to scream. 

But it’s necessary. 

And it infuriates Snow, for some obscure reason I’m not entirely sure I understand. It’s not like I was trying to steal his girlfriend -his  _ ex _ -girlfriend ; it seems there was trouble in paradise and Mr and Miss Perfect broke up. I might have flirted with her, if she hadn’t seen… if she didn’t know. It would have made him so angry.

But, he’s angry enough as it is, and getting a reaction out of him when I sweet talk a girl makes the ordeal more bearable. 

Just now, I’m using the oldest trick in the book, making flowers appear, for a girl named Eliza. She has dark blonde hair and eyes a lovely shade of blue. Too lovely. Blue eyes are more beautiful when their shade is ordinary. Boring.

I shake that thought as I focus on Eliza’s pleased smile and pink cheeks. 

“Thank you,” she says as she takes the flowers, inspecting them. “They’re beautiful, your spellwork is incredible.”

That’s what I like about her, compared to most of the other girls that are interested in me. She isn’t just some silly, hormonal 16-year-old who wants to fuck a hot bloke. 

She is  _ mostly  _ a silly, hormonal 16-year-old who wants to fuck a hot bloke, but she also has some brains.

I would like to blame those girls, but as it happens, I’m also a silly, hormonal 16-year-old who wants to fuck a…

No.

I’m not.

I’m stronger than this.

_ Pitches aren’t weak. _

“I’m glad you like them,” I answer, making my voice soft, but not overly sweet. It has to sound truthful. 

She gives me a smile, smelling the flowers even if magickal plants have no odour.

“I’m sure I would like real ones better, though.”

I answer her smile.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

**…**

**Agatha**

I don’t understand what Baz is doing.

He had this pin, that he clearly seemed attached to, with a symbol that left little doubt as to why it was important for him, and now he’s flirting with half of the girls in our year.

It makes no sense.

If he’s… Why would he flirt with girls? 

Maybe he likes girls too…

But he isn’t flirting with any boy.

Admittedly, boys don’t flirt with boys and girls don’t flirt with girls here, but still, I find it rather strange that he’d start doing that only days after he freaked out on the remparts because I saw his pin and figured out -more from his reaction than the pin itself, I must say- that he was some type of gay… The timing is just off.

Maybe it’s because he thinks I’m going to spread rumours about him and he wants to make sure I  _ can’t  _ by making as many girls as possible sigh with a stupid look on their face when he walks by. 

**…**

**Baz**

“Baz”

Damn her. 

She’s at the  _ very bottom  _ of the list of people I want to be seeing right now. Well, no, not the very bottom. That’s my father’s spot. But she’s really giving him competition. 

The fact that she dated Snow had already made her a person I was not exactly fond of, but now that she’s seen that stupid fucking pin, the sight of her irritates me to no end.

As the mature person I am, I glare at her. “Get lost, Wellbelove.”

“No,” she says, the stubborn girl, as she grabs my arm.

I snatch it back brutally.

“ _ Don’t  _ touch me,” I say between gritted teeth. Then, I give her another death glare, more bored than angry this time. Showing them that they’re bothering you tends to get on people’s nerves more than showing them that they’re pissing you off. “What do you want?”

She gestures to me to follow her to an empty corridor just on our right.

I roll my eyes exaggeratedly, but I do follow her. Just in case she might talk about… What she discovered.

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing?” she asks the moment she considers us far enough from possible eavesdroppers.

I lean against the wall. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“With those girls. Why are you flirting all of a sudden?”

Aleister Crowley, I hate her so much.  _ Really  _ hate her. Not like how I hate Snow.

“Am I not allowed to want a girlfriend? It’s perfectly normal for someone our age. You should know.”

She doesn’t seem fazed by my mentioning her relationship with Snow.

It only makes me more irritated. She had  _ him  _ and she  _ lost _ him and she doesn’t care. As if she didn’t win the jackpot when she first kissed him. 

“What I don’t understand is why you’re seeking a  _ girl _ friend,” Wellbelove says, her eyes piercing. “Aren’t you g…”

“Shut up,” I interrupt her with my coldest voice, which makes her shut her mouth before she can say that  _ damned  _ word. “Whatever you think I am, you’re  _ wrong _ .” Maybe if I say it enough it’ll end up ringing true. “I’m flirting with girls because I want to date one. It’s as simple as that. Now leave me  _ the fuck  _ alone before I hex you.”

I leave before she can even begin to answer. 

**…**

I approach Eliza the moment I see her. Thank Merlin, she wasn’t so hard to find.

She has her back on me, but she’s chatting with two of her friends and they have definitely seen me because they giggle, before one of them leans towards Eliza to tell her something.

She turns around shortly after, a surprised look on her face, which quickly becomes an appreciative smile.

“Hey, Baz,” she says when I’m close enough.

I give her a fake smile I’ve crafted for years, so well that it doesn’t look fake anymore. Behind her, I see one of her friends tap the other’s arm before pointing at Eliza and I.

Witnesses. 

Perfect.

I stop in front of her, closer than it is socially acceptable. 

“You wanted to see me?” she asks confidently.

Inside, I roll my eyes. I came to her, of course I wanted to see her.

“To see you, yes, but I also wanted to ask you something…”

A smile tugs at her lips.

She must be expecting the question. I’ve flirted with her more than with the other girls, and I never talked to her outside of those times when I flirted, there’s not really a million things I could want to ask her. 

“I’m all ears.”

I force my gaze to drop to her lips. They’re nothing special. Too plump for my taste, and covered in shiny lip gloss. The thought of how sticky it must feel makes me want to scrunch my nose.

“Would you like to be my girlfriend?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d love to know your thoughts 😬


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning : transphobia

**Baz**

“Alice!”

I feel Dev tense next to me. When I glance at Niall, he has this emotionless look on his face that always makes me feel uncomfortable. 

Matthew Gardner, the person I hate the most at this school at the moment, above even Wellbelove, stops in front of me and my friends. In front of Niall, more specifically.

“How you doing,  _ Alice _ ?” he says, with a wicked satisfaction in his voice when he says the name.

I don’t understand what he gets out of this. I don’t understand how purposely hurting someone can be this entertaining.

I mean, I do. But the only reason I enjoy riling Snow up is because I at least get some kind of reaction out of him. Anger and hatred are better than indifference. 

As far as I know, Matthew  _ doesn’t  _ want to shag Niall.

Niall starts walking again, which forces Matthew to walk backwards to stay in front of us. He occasionally glances over his shoulder. 

I wish he would trip. 

“I’m doing quite well, Matthew, what about you?” Niall answers, his voice exaggeratingly sweet.

I wish Niall wouldn’t dignify his taunting with a response, but it has proven to be worse when he ignores him, and Niall says he’d rather hear the shitty things Matthew has to say than his deadname being repeated over and over again.

Matthew looks confused by Niall’s answer. Stupid, brainless brute. 

Since he doesn’t know an appropriate answer to what Niall said -though nothing he says is ever  _ appropriate _ \- he goes back to things he says continually.

“You were so much hotter before you tried looking like a boy, why would you do that to yourself?”

Dev is fuming. I must say, my blood is boiling too. Discreetly, I squeeze his wrist. He knows what it means. Keep quiet. Keep cool. 

And then there’s Niall, who looks perfectly calm.

“I was hotter?” he says, sounding bored. “If you think a 12 year old child is hot, Matthew, maybe you should ask yourself some questions.”

My eyebrows shoot up. Niall’s answers to Matthew are usually biting -which is too strange, Niall is the kind one in our group- but this is particularly harsh. 

I’ve taught him so well.

Matthew looks taken aback too, which fills me with glee. 

Quickly though, he goes back to being the most disgusting excuse for a human being I’ve ever had the displeasure of encountering.

“Come on Alice, you know that’s not what I mean… I just think you’d be so hot if you accepted you’re a girl and stopped playing dress up.”

It’s in moments like this that I wish telepathy was a real thing. I could know what’s going on in Niall’s brain, and I could tell him not to listen to that motherfucker. 

But I can’t.

All I can do is prevent  _ Dev  _ from going feral on that motherfucker, with a firmer hold on his wrist. 

“You do know that even if I were indeed a girl, I wouldn’t fuck you, no matter how bad you want it, right?”

My perfect pupil. He’s learnt so much. I’m so proud of him.

Matthew goes livid, and then his entire face turns red. It’s rather funny to watch, though the rush of blood to his cheeks is a bother.

“I don’t want to fuck you I’m not fucking gay,” he spits out, as if Niall had just insulted his entire family.

Straight men are so easy to offend.

“You lost me there,” Niall continues, merciless. “If I’m a girl, how is fucking me gay? It’s only gay if I’m a bloke. You have to choose one, Matthew.”

Matthew looks like the single brain cell he had left stopped functioning. 

“I… You…  _ Fuck you _ ,” he groans.

He makes sure to bump into Niall’s shoulder  _ hard  _ when he walks by him, which seems to be the last straw for Dev.

It’s a blessing I have vampire speed and strength because otherwise he would have jumped Matthew. 

Instead, he puts his hands on Niall’s shoulders, looking at the arm Matthew pushed.

“Are you alright?” he asks, the worry in his voice tinted with anger.

Niall gives him a soft smile. It makes me roll my eyes. If it was me asking, he’d just roll  _ his  _ eyes but  _ no,  _ it’s  _ Dev _ , so he  _ smiles. _

They’re absolutely ridiculous. They should just fucking kiss already. That would put an end to their constant flirting and palpable sexual tension.

“I’m fine.”

Dev grunts.

“I’m going to beat that bastard bloody someday. I should fucking corner him in the locker room and…”

“And nothing,” Niall says, laying a calming hand on Dev’s chest. “I told you a million times I didn’t want you…” He gives me a warning look over Dev’s shoulder. “...  _ or Baz  _ to get involved. It’ll only put you in trouble and that’s the last thing I want. The Mage doesn’t care about some random arsehole calling me a girl, but he  _ would  _ care if one of you two idiots did something stupid to Matthew. Believe me, you’re helping me much more by not doing anything than you would by throwing punches or spells at him. Okay?”

Reluctantly, Dev nods.

“Good. Now let’s go, history is waiting for us.”

Dev lets out a loud groan. It’s his least favourite class -I’m convinced half of the reason for that is that the teacher made him sit far from Niall because they were chatting all the time.

“I fucking hate history.”

**…**

Eliza sat next to me in history today, which, I suppose, makes sense. She’s my girlfriend now after all.

I give her a smile as I meet Niall’s inquisitive gaze.

I ignore it.

Instead, my own gaze falls on his pencil case. He has a collection of pins there -he loves those things. Most are random ones he found pretty, or that his mum gave him from when she was younger, but there are two that particularly attract my eyes.

Shaped like flags, a rainbow one, and one with blue, pink and white strips.

They’re just… there.

Like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Like it couldn’t get him beaten up, or worse.

I don’t know how he does it. 

I could never...

_ My  _ pin is hidden deep in my closet. His are proudly exposed in plain sight, for everyone to see. 

He’s so much braver than I could ever fucking be.

“Hey, babe,” Eliza says.

The pet name makes me cringe. I never gave her permission to call me pet names.

But…

But it all has to seem true.

Real.

I know how easy it is to get lost in an illusion. Maybe I could do that with this too.

So instead of getting mad, I give her a charming smile.

“Hello, baby.”

**…**

The locker room is always a trial.

Who  _ the fuck  _ thought that making a dozen young men change in the same room was a good idea?

It’s even worse when you have to keep your friend from punching the buffest bloke in the team.

It’s even worse when your clothes are another one of your defenses and taking them off feels like being a layer more vulnerable.

More exposed.

Like everyone around you is one step closer to discovering your dirtiest, most shameful secrets.

I force Dev to go to the opposite end of the room as where Matthew is, and once he starts changing, most definitely glaring at the goalkeeper while he does, I change too, my eyes fixed on the wall.

They’re all watching each other change, they don’t care.

I can’t do that.

I’m scared acting like them would just pain six colourful stripes on my forehead. The same ones as those on the fucking pin, in a sock, in a box, behind the jumpers in my closet. 


	6. Chapter Six

**Simon**

Baz has a girlfriend.

Let me rephrase that.

Baz Pitch, Mr Emotionless, Arrogant Arsehole, has found himself a girlfriend. 

It makes no sense.

He’s never shown any interest in _anyone._ Well not that kind of interest at least. He has _always_ shown a lot of interest in antagonizing me. 

I don’t get it. Why would he suddenly get together with someone? 

I don’t even bloody know that girl, and I spent enough time following Baz around to know who he hangs out with. She’s not part of those people. He literally never said a word to her last year, and now we’re only three months into the school year and he’s dating her?

That’s bullshit.

It must be a cover up for something. He must be trying to distract me with his  _ girlfriend  _ to plot something. That’s something Baz would do. He isn’t below using people in his evil schemes.

I don’t know  _ why  _ Baz would think that him having a girlfriend would be on my mind, but it is, so I guess if it was part of his plan, it’s fucking working.

It shouldn’t bother me that Baz has a girlfriend, it’s not my business who he dates, but there’s just something that just seems off about the whole thing. That’s why I don’t like it. No other reason.

I look at the clock in our room. 5:31 pm. His football practice starts at 5 and lasts until 6. I should have enough time to look through his things. 

Yeah, I know, respect for privacy and all that, but would you respect the privacy of your plotting vampire of a roommate who wants to kill you? No you wouldn’t. Don’t blame me. 

I’ve gone through his closet enough time to know how everything is organized, so I don’t worry too much about making a mess. I’ll be able to put it all back in place.

For the most part, there’s nothing interesting, probably because Baz knows I stick my nose in his business, but when I take his his jumpers out of his closet, I feel something weird.

It feels like putting your hand right over the stove without actually touching it.

Baz’s magic.

A smile grows on my face.

_ I knew it. _

I knew that bastard was hiding something.

I know him so well. 

Now I just have to undo the spell he cast on whatever it is that he’s hiding… Which might not be that easy since he’s the best student in our year and I’m the worst, I’ll give you that, but I have a lot of determination and too much magic, so it should still be ok.

It takes a few minutes -and a few tries- but eventually, I break Baz’s spell and discover a small box, about the size of my palm.

I feel my heart beat faster as I reach for it. I put my hand on the box, and quickly take it. I leave his jumpers on the floors, because it will be easier to put everything back like that, and because having a little bit of dust on his clothes will annoy him to no end. He’s so weird with his clothes. I don’t get why he cares about them so much, it’s not like he gets to wear them often, we have to wear our uniforms only all week long. Only on Saturdays and Sundays are we allowed to wear something else. 

Though I only have my school uniform and the clothes -always too big or too small- that they give me in the care homes, so I guess that’s why I don’t understand Baz’s obsession with his clothes. 

I look down at the box, suddenly nervous to open it. What if it’s a trap and Baz purposely left it there so that I’d find it?

No. He wouldn’t have cast a spell on it if he wanted me to find it. If he went to such lengths… it’s because it’s something he really wants to be hidden.

So it can’t be anything good. 

I pull the top part of the box up hesitantly, only to see a black piece of fabric that looks like that of a sock.

A sock?

Why the fuck would Baz hide a sock?

There must be something inside of it.

I take the sock out of the box carefully, making sure that whatever is inside the sock won’t fall and get lost.

I unwrap the sock, and what my eyes fall on makes me frown. It’s just a pin. It’s upside down so I can’t see what it is exactly, but it’s definitely a pin. It’s too small to be one of those fancy brooches like those Aggie’s mum owns, which comforts me a bit. For a moment, I was scared it was some sort of family heirloom that belonged to his mum when she was alive or something. That would have explained why he kept it so well hidden.

When I finally flip the pin, I have the confirmation that it’s not that  _ at all _ .

And fuck, I didn’t expect that.

It’s shaped like a flag, but without a pole, because that’s not the kind of flag that gets held up in the air like that.

It’s not the flag of a country.

It’s made of 6 horizontal stripes. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue and purple. The colours of the rainbow.

I’m a bit clueless about a lot of things, but not so much so that I don’t know what a rainbow on a flag means.

It’s a gay pride flag thing. 

The realization daunts on me.

That must mean…

My cheeks turn red.

Not that I would care if Baz was… gay or whatever. I’m much more scared of sharing a room with a vampire than with a gay bloke but… why would he be dating a girl if he was gay?

Besides, I would  _ know  _ it if he was gay, right? I know him better than everyone else! I know so many things about Baz,  _ surely  _ I would know something that important about him?

Maybe it’s a present for his friend Niall. I know  _ he  _ is gay. 

Yes, it must be that.

The door of the room open.

_ Shit. _

**…**

**Baz**

Football practice was awful. 

Dev and I were _-rightfully_ _so_ \- still quite angry at Matthew for the shit he threw at Niall, and we took that anger out on the field, which the coach didn’t like. He told us both to leave practice.

Football is my only fucking moment of peace during the week. For an hour, minus the time it takes to change, I can only focus on the ball and my straining muscles, without having any of my millions of problems in mind _or_ Snow around, which makes the whole thing ever better. Though he does come to practice sometimes, because his sole purpose in life is to be a pain in my arse. 

He better not pull some of his usual bullshit tonight because I feel like a bomb ready to explode at the first minute jolt…

… And he seems determined to make me blow up.

When I open the door to our door, my eyes immediately find him.

Sitting in front of my open closet.

My jumpers next to him.

The box open.

The sock unwrapped.

The pin out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh oh


	7. Chapter Seven

**Simon**

Baz’s angry voice echoes in the room. “What the fuck are you doing?”

I curl up, as if taking less space would magically make me disappear, looking everywhere but at Baz.

“I asked you a question,” he says between gritted teeth. He’s standing right behind me, looking down at me and at the mess around me.

When I glance up for a second, I see that his eyes are actually fixed on my hand. That’s where his pin is. My hand instinctively clenches around it

“Baz, I…”

“Don’t fucking touch that!” 

Quickly - _ too  _ quickly ; vampire speed- he reaches down, grabbing my wrist and slamming it against the floor. I feel a sharp pain and my hand opens, allowing Baz to grab his pin. 

He holds it close to his chest, shielding it from view. 

“You’ve never seen that thing, do you hear me?”

His eyes are like a raging storm, but there’s something else in them. Something fragile. Vulnerable.

_ Fragile  _ and  _ vulnerable _ are not adjectives I ever thought I’d associate with Baz Pitch. He’s everything but that. But right now, behind the anger, he just looks like a scared, wounded animal.

Is it because I saw the pin? 

He was very obviously hiding it, and right now he  _ is  _ hiding it from me, even though I’ve already seen it, I already know. 

That must mean that it does belong to  _ him  _ and that it’s not a present for his friend.

Is he… ashamed?

I mean I’m straight so it’s not like I know how it’s like to be gay but surely it isn’t something to be ashamed of, right?

“Baz, it’s okay if you’re gay,” I say, which only seems to make him angrier.

“Don’t— I’m not fucking gay!”

Does he really think I’m that dumb? He wouldn’t have that thing and he wouldn’t react this strongly if he wasn’t. 

“It’s not a big deal if you are, though.”

It’s really not. I mean who cares who Baz wants to date. It’s his business. Even if he  _ is  _ gay, him kissing boys isn’t hurting anyone.

He presses the fist of his hand that isn’t clenched around the pin to his mouth, rage radiating from him.

I have to admit, it’s kind of scary. Baz doesn’t get angry when we fight anymore, he’s just cold and seemingly unbothered, and it drives  _ me  _ mad. 

But right now he looks like a bomb about to explode, his eyes sharp and full of fire.

“Not a big deal.” His voice is trembling, but not in the about-to-cry kind of trembling -of course not, it’s Baz, he doesn’t cry. His hand falls back along his body, slapping his thigh as he looks away from me, as if the sight of me made him sick. 

“Of course you’d think it’s not a big deal,” he mutters. Then he looks back at me, his eyes colder than I’ve ever seen them. “It’s not like you have parents to disappoint.”

My mouth falls open in shock, as I feel anger grow inside me. How can he fucking  _ dare _ —

I knew Baz was mean. He’s a bully, and he always has something nasty to say about how I act or talk or walk or cast spells or  _ fucking breathe _ , but this? 

It’s plain cruel. 

He’s never been cruel like that.

He seems to realize what he said because his eyes go wide and his hand flies up to his mouth again.

It’s the last thing I see of him before he disappears in the bathroom, locking the door.

**…**

**Baz**

I’m a monster.

How could I fucking say something like this?

I throw insults at Snow constantly but I’m not… I’m not  _ that  _ much of an arsehole.

I  _ never  _ said anything about his parents, it’s just completely disrespectful and not okay at all and I  _ know it  _ because if someone used the fact that my mum is dead against me it would  _ shatter me _ and I just did that to Snow.

I slam my fist against the bathroom counter, relishing the pain I feel in my hand. Snow should be the one inflicting me this pain, though. I should have stayed longer. Let him hit me.

I would have deserved it.

I just… I can’t believe I said that, but I was so angry, and he had no right to stick his nose in my business and find out… find out…

I throw the pin across the room, watching it hit the wall and fall on the shower with a multitude of tinkling sounds. 

_ Baz, it’s okay if you’re gay. _

My shoulders drop, and I have to grip the edges of the counter to hold myself up.

_ If you’re gay. _

Snow… He… 

_ Gay. _

He  _ knows. _

Bile rises in my throat.

This is the worst possible scenario. The scenario I’ve been trying to avoid for so damn long.

He’s probably disgusted at the thought of sharing a room with a gay bloke. I can practically see him running to the Mage to beg him to let him go to another room, far from his deviant of a roommate.

The Mage said no when Snow accused me of being a vampire. I’m not sure he’ll say no if Snow accuses me of being a fag.

But even if he doesn’t go to the Mage...

Snow can’t be trusted. With anything. And exposing shameful, monstrous parts of my being seems to be a hobby of his.

He only had the most minute suspicion that I was a vampire when he started going around telling the whole school I was one. 

Now, with this, it’s even worse. He pretty much has  _ confirmation  _ that I’m queer.

Give it a day, maybe two, and he’ll have told everyone.

My heart is in my throat.

I have a reputation, one that I’ve somehow managed to keep clean for years. A lot of the students fear me because I’m a Pitch and because I’m powerful. I’m almost untouchable. 

If they know what I am…

I’ll become a target. An easy one, on top of that. 

If Snow tells people…

I’m ruined. 

And he  _ will  _ tell people, because why wouldn’t he after all? This is ideal for him. A nasty secret of mine he gets to reveal to the word.

My knees give out and I drag myself over the toilet seat.

They’ll know.

They’ll all know.

The students.

The teachers.

The Mage.

Soon enough, the entire World of Mages.

They’ll all know the Heir of Pitch is a queer. A faggot. A degenerate. 

I throw up my guts, and all of my fears and self-hatred. 


	8. Chapter Eight

**Baz**

When I exit the bathroom, Snow is nowhere to be seen.

Of course.

I think it’s for the best, though. I don’t know if I could have handled his presence right now. Not after I pathetically cried my eyes out and threw my guts up because my profound disgust for what I am is too strong to be contained. 

Him finding the pin was humiliating enough for today.

It fills me with incomprehension that he even found it in the first place.

Snow going through my things is nowhere near unusual, there was even a time last year when he would put his hands in my bin to see if he could find anything incriminating in the garbage. Which was absolutely gross, but I honestly wasn’t even surprised.

So really, finding him seated in front of my open closet was no shock. Finding him seated in front of my open closet with in his hand a pin that I hid in a sock, in a box, concealed with a spell and behind my jumpers  _ was  _ a shock. 

Who would have thought Snow could use his wand well enough to break one of  _ my  _ spells.

As it seems, his skills are improved when he uses his magic to harm me. 

It’s like he was made to be an inconvenience to me.

How ironic is it that despite that, despite all of the things that should repulse me, those perverted thoughts he just learnt the existence of are all about him. 

**…**

**Simon**

I go to the White Chapel to think.

But I don’t  _ know  _ what to think about all of this.

Clearly, Baz is gay. 

It makes me feel some type of way, though I don’t understand why. I’m pretty sure I’m not homophobic. I mean, Keris and Trixie are lesbians and I never had a problem with that, and I don’t care that Baz’s friend Niall is gay either.

So I guess I’m just glad he won’t date Agatha. 

He can’t steal my ex if he doesn’t like girls.

But if he doesn’t like girls, why does he have a girlfriend?

It makes no damn sense.

Another thing on my mind is that Baz clearly doesn’t like that he’s gay. 

It makes me sad, to be honest. Baz has a lot of things he  _ should  _ dislike about himself, like the fact that he’s an arrogant prick and that he’s evil, but that’s not one of them. It’s not his fault he’s gay. And it’s not a bad thing. 

Really, I never understood what the big deal was about gay people. Who cares who other people want to date? As long as it’s not  _ you  _ they want to date it’s not your business.

Baz seems to think it’s a bad thing, though.

He looked so upset that I had found his pin.

Which I guess I can understand.

If I were gay, I surely wouldn’t want someone I hate to know it because they were nosy and spied on me. I feel kind of bad about that but well, it’s done now it’s not like I can go back. 

Or forget it.

**…**

**Baz**

After taking some time to cool down, and tidy my closet since Snow couldn’t even do that, I head to Dev and Niall’s room. 

It’s Dev who opens, as usual. His hair is wet, he must have taken a shower right when he came back from practice.

“Baz? What do you want?”

I give him a tense smile. “Do you think you could leave the room for a moment? Or tell Niall to come with me? I’d like to talk to him alone.”

He frowns, certainly not pleased that I’m hiding something from him, but he doesn’t try to know what it is. Dev is as curious as the next person, but he isn’t nosy. He knows that he will know, eventually, if I want him to.

“I’ll ask him,” he says before he disappears inside his room.

I hear him tell Niall to, and I quote, “move his lazy arse” from his bed because I want to have a chat with him. 

Seconds later, the door opens wider, and Niall walks out of the room, closing it behind himself.

“Come with me,” I say before he can ask a question. 

I wouldn’t answer his question now, anyway. I wouldn’t answer his question anywhere where it might be overheard. 

I drag him to my room, praying Snow won’t come back anytime soon.

I don’t think he will, dinner starts being served in a quarter of an hour, he’ll probably be in the dining hall for a while. 

I slouch on my bed, gesturing Niall to come and join me. He might have gone on Snow’s bed otherwise and I’d rather have him here. Besides, I don’t know when was the last time Snow spelled his bed sheets clean -I don’t know  _ if  _ Snow spells his bed sheets clean- it’s safer having Niall here.

He goes to sit, but I pull on his arm to make him lie down, and I lie down with him, my head on his stomach. 

He lets out a surprised “Oh,” and soon enough, his hand is in my hair. 

It would make me smile if I wasn’t so close to tears. He knows me so well. 

“Baz, what’s wrong?” he asks. “Is it about that girl, Eloise?”

I cringe at the mention of  _ that girl _ . Crowley, she really isn’t my smartest idea.

“Eliza,” I correct him. “And no it’s not about her. Not really.”

Not at all.

It’s about Snow.

It’s always about Snow. Niall should know that by now. 

“We should talk about her, though. What the hell, Baz? Are you  _ really  _ dating her?”

He sounds completely astounded. 

I fidget with the hem of my shirt. My  _ football  _ shirt. With everything that happened, I didn’t take the time to shower or even change. I’m so gross. 

“Yes, I am,” I answer, trying to sound as relaxed as I can even though just hearing her name makes me want to scream. Then, I make my voice teasing, hoping to get Niall to change to the topic. “You were such a bad kisser, you turned me straight.”

“You’re not funny. Seriously Baz, why are you dating a  _ girl _ ?”

“I have come to the realization, over the course of the summer, that I do like girls.”

It’s such a blatant lie, Niall will obviously see right through it but it’s worth a try.

“That’s bullshit and we both know it. I…” He pauses for a moment, and then I feel his hand move in my hair. He parts some of it, taking three strands in hand, and starts braiding them. 

Keeping his fingers busy.

I’m not sure I want to find out what he’s nervous about.

“I know what it’s like, alright? You’re trying to convince yourself that you’re not queer even though you know you are. I get it. I’ve been there. Hell, I’ve been there twice,” he says with a tense laugh. “And believe me, it’s not going to help. At all. You’ll just make things worse for yourself. Dating a girl isn’t magically going to make you straight, Baz.”

No, it won’t.

I know there’s no cure for this. 

No spell to remove this anomaly from my being. 

But maybe I could get used to being with a girl enough that it becomes something I can bear for my whole life.

Because that’s the only way.

Because just like my bloodthirst, it’s something that I can only repress. Conceal.

Because I have to be perfect.

Perfect son, perfect heir.

Perfectly normal.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Baz**

“You should just break up with her before the poor girl gets attached,” Niall says, always so wise.

But that’s the thing. She can get attached. Hell, I’d like it if she got attached. I wouldn’t have to look for another girl in the future. I could just date her through the rest of our school years, and propose to her shortly after our graduation. We’d get married, and we’d have a child. The Pitch line would have another heir, my job would be done. 

She could fuck other men. I could fuck other men. 

It would be a great arrangement. 

In public, we’d be the perfect couple my partner and I have to be, and in private, we could still get all the sex we wanted, even if it didn’t come from our spouse.

My father would be so proud. 

“It’s none of your business, Niall,” I answer flatly.

“You’re making a mistake.” 

I know.

I shrug.

“Maybe not. Maybe I actually like girls and I’ll realize it dating Eliza.”

Though if I liked girls I think I would have realized when I was crying myself to sleep, terrified that my family would stop loving me when they know I like boys.

Niall snorts. “Yeah, and I’m going to realize I’m a girl by putting on a dress and makeup,” he says, filling his voice with sarcasm.

Hey. No. He’s not allowed to guilt trip me like that.

“That’s not the same thing.  _ This  _ is impulses. Thoughts, desires. I  _ can  _ control that. You… It’s just who you are.”

He sighs heavily, undoing the braid he’s just done.

He starts braiding it again.

“And being gay is who you are too. I understand what you feel but it makes me sad that you’re doing this. You’re just hurting yourself dating that girl. You don’t have to punish yourself for being gay. The way you are is enough, you don’t have to change it.”

Those tears that have been threatening to spill since we lied down finally pass the barrier of my eyes.

“It’s not enough for my father, though,” I say, my voice tight. “You should have seen his face when I told him, Niall. He was so disgusted.”

It’s so hard to get a reaction out of my father.  _ I _ haven’t been able to get one since I was five. It’s like my mother’s death has used up all of his emotions and taken away his ability to show them. Frozen his features in an eternal stern face. 

And yet, when I told him I was attracted to men, his eyebrows furrowed. His lips twitched. 

His voice swirled in the room, a raging storm of disappointment.

Mordelia burst into tears.

Daphne raised her own voice.

His fist hit the table.

Glass shattered when it shook.

So did my heart. 

“Fuck your father. I’m not joking Baz, your father can go fuck himself. It’s your life. Don’t make it an unhappy one to please him.”

“I don’t want to disappoint him.”

I sound so miserable. So pathetic.

But my father… 

He’s the only parent I have left.

Fiona’s my aunt, it’s not the same, and I know she could accept pretty much everything.

I love Daphne but she’s just my stepmother, her approval doesn’t matter as much as my father’s.

Besides… If my mother was alive… He said…

I close my eyes, breathing through my nose and trying not to think about what he said. Instead, I try to listen to what  _ Niall  _ says. Niall who came out to his parents twice. Well, once to both of them. Once to just his mum, because his father left before Niall knew he was gay.

His father never accepted that he was trans, and now he’s out of Niall’s life, for good.

This is the last thing I want to happen with  _ my  _ father.

I lost my mother. I  _ can’t  _ lose him too.

“Baz, I don’t think any child has ever  _ not  _ disappointed their parents. If it was not for your sexuality, there would be something else. If you were straight, maybe you’d fall madly in love with a woman your father would think is beneath you and he’d be just as disappointed as he is now. It’s not  _ possible  _ to be perfect, Baz. You won’t ever manage it, you’ll just die trying.”

“You don’t know that,” I saw stubbornly, though my throat is tied and I don’t believe a word that comes out of my mouth. “Maybe he’s right and I’ll come back to my senses.”

Except I won’t.

I know that I have no desire to be close to a woman in that way. That if I ever date, kiss, fuck one, it’ll only be because I have to. Because it’s what I was meant to do.

It’s unpleasant, but most things in life are. 

Working is unpleasant, and people still do it because they need to. Pregnancy is unpleasant, and women still go through it to have their baby.

You don’t get nice things if you don’t suffer for them a little bit.

“Baz. Just stop, okay? I don’t feel like listening to that shit right now.” Irritation is ringing in his voice, but it’s not just that. He sounds a little… hurt? “Shut up about you  _ maybe  _ being straight. I know that’s not your intent but when you say that you may be straight when you were so sure you were gay at the beginning of the summer, it just makes me feel like you liked dating me and you saw it as dating a girl and so you think that you could date a girl.”

I’m such an awful fucking person.

Niall is always so good to me, so kind, always listening to all my bullshit and trying to help even when I’m being a stubborn git, and in return what do I do? Make him feel like crap.

I flip over to look up at him, propping myself up on my elbows. His hand falls from my hair.

“Niall, I’m so sorry, that’s not it at all, it has nothing to do with you, it’s just _me_ being a mess as always. Aleister Crowley, if anything, dating you _confirmed_ how fucking gay I am,” I mumble, because I fucking _hate it_.

Most people would probably see my summer fling with Niall as a mistake. We’re friends, we never loved each other like that, dating each other was pointless.

But it felt so good.

It was probably my only chance to ever be with a boy other than for a quick hookup, and it was so lovely.

“I know, I told you I knew it wasn’t your intention, but just... you aren’t the only one with a cruel brain that likes to poison you with negative thoughts.”

“Yeah. Ok. I’ll shut up about that then. Sorry again.”

I can try to convince myself I’m straight just fine without telling Niall about it, after all. It’s what I’ve been doing so far.

He gives me a small smile.

Then, he grabs my arm and pulls me close to him, forcing me to lie beside him, on my stomach this time, with my head on his shoulder. “Now, tell me why you wanted to talk to me? Is it about something else than this?”

Merlin, I’d almost forgotten about this.

I tense.

“It is but, well… I… You know that pin you got me, the same as yours? The…” I clear my throat. Niall loves pins, he gifted me more than one. “The rainbow one.”

He nods. “Yeah. What about it?”

Instinctively, I reach for the waistband of my shorts. I pinned the pin there when I picked it up, since I don’t have pockets and my shirt is long enough to cover it.

“Snow found it. He knows I’m gay.”

Niall’s hand freezes in my hair.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, as you said,” I say with a nervous laugh. “I’m afraid he’s going to tell everyone.”

He resumes playing with my hair soothingly. 

“I don’t think he will. He doesn’t like you, but outing you? I’m sure even he can see that…”

Niall is suddenly made to shut up by the door opening.

Shit.

How did I not know he was coming? I  _ always  _ know he’s coming. His stupid -lovely- smell of smoke usually fills my nostrils when he’s halfway through the stairs.

And yet here he is, the boy who haunts both my nightmares and daydreams, those mundane blue eyes of his fixed on Niall and I.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Simon**

“What the fuck?”

I mean, I guess there’s no doubt now. Baz _is_ gay.

And apparently Niall is _more_ than his friend. 

Just seeing them tangled here together makes my blood boil. Baz is _basically_ lying on top of Niall, I’m pretty fucking sure if I had showed up ten minutes later I would have caught them shagging, which… _gross_.

Not because they’re gay. It’s not gross that Baz is having gay sex. 

It’s gross that Baz is having gay sex in a room that he share with _me_.

Crowley, did they ever do it here?

I cringe. Probably.

I think I’m starting to understand why Penny is so pissed at Trixie and Keris now.

Maybe there were times when I was off somewhere getting injured fighting something for the Mage and Baz was here, fucking Niall.

Maybe there were times when he snuck Niall in our room at night and he fucked him while I was sound asleep in my bed. 

It makes me mildly sick to think of that. Surely Baz is enough of a prick not to care about how scarring it would be for me to wake up and see him shagging his boyfriend. 

_Boyfriend._

I don’t like the ring of that word.

_Not because they’re gay._

It’s just… there’s something about _Niall_ being Baz’s _boyfriend_ that’s wrong.

And I mean… doesn’t Baz have a girlfriend? 

“Hello Snow,” Niall says, perfectly calm, as he pushes himself up on his elbows.

Baz sat up the moment I opened the door. He seems much more bothered about getting caught than Niall, but hey, it’s not my fault.

It’s my bloody room too. If he doesn’t want me to see him with his boyfriend, he should just _not_ bring him here.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I snap, glaring at Niall.

It infuriates me to see him here, in Baz’s bed, like he just _belongs_ there.

It infuriates me more to think that he _does_ belong there, if he’s Baz’s boyfriend. 

“Don’t talk to him like that!” Baz says defensively. “Am I not alone to have my friend over?”

I snort. “Yeah. Your _friend_.”

Who does he think he’s kidding?

I only have one -two? does Agatha count?- friends so maybe I’m not the best person to talk about how friendships work, but I’m pretty sure you don’t hug your friends like that. Especially not when they’re a bloke and you like blokes.

“Yes, my friend,” Baz says, crossing his arms on his chest. He gives me one of his cold looks. “I don’t know why you sound so sarcastic about it.”

“Baz,” Niall says before I can answer anything.

He reaches out to put a calming hand on Baz’s arm.

_Don’t fucking touch him._

Wow I don’t know where that came from.

Anyway, I don’t have time to think about that.

“Just drop it alright?” Niall continues. “I should get going anyway. It’s dinner time.”

He’s smiling at Baz when he steps out of the bed, and it kind of makes me want to punch him. 

How can he be so chill when he knows I’ve just caught him and Baz together even though Baz is supposed to have a girlfriend? Does he not care about Baz cheating on his girlfriend with him?

Or is Baz cheating on him with the girl?

It’s all so bloody confusing.

He walks past me and my hands ball into fists. They don’t flex until the door is closed.

“You know Baz, I knew you were a lot of things, but I didn’t think you were a _cheater_ ,” I say, spitting out the word. It’s so disgusting to do that. Cheating, I mean. Someone loves you, trust you, and you go and fuck someone else? “How could you do that to that poor girl?”

He frowns, looking taken aback, before he…

Before he starts laughing.

 _Actually_ laughing. 

It sounds pretty. It’s much better than his usual scornful sneers.

“You think I’m fucking Niall?” he says, glancing at me with disbelief in his eyes. “Crowley, Snow, you’re incredible. You see me hugging my best friend and you automatically assume I must be shagging him? This is ridiculous.”

**…**

**Baz**

He’s such a moron.

I’ve been pathetically in awe at his very existence for over a year, and it, thankfully, did not cross his mind _once_ that I might like him, but he sees me hanging out with Niall once and he thinks we’re having sex?

“So you’re _not_ shagging him?” Snow asks, anger ringing in his voice.

That’s admittedly a bit strange. I don’t understand why he’s so worked up about Niall and I potentially being a couple. 

I suppose he lied when he said it was okay if I was gay. Or maybe he’s only okay with me being gay if I’m gay the way I’ve been since I realized I was. Not in an ostentatious way.

That would make sense. It is not the kind of things that should be put on display, after all. 

Some things are better kept hidden.

I arrange my limbs in a seemingly relaxed pose, and I look back at Snow.

“Not that it’s any of your concern, but no, I’m not shagging Niall. He’s my best friend, nothing more. It’s not because we cuddle that we’re romantically involved with one another. Are friends not allowed to hug? Or is it because we’re two boys? Do you think that two boys must be dating to hug?”

Yes, I know that technically I _have_ dated Niall. But it didn’t last long, it was months ago, and it wasn’t even because we were in love, so it’s irrelevant here. 

“I- You- That’s not what I said!” Snow answers. 

“Why do you assume I’m fucking my best friend, then? Since it’s not because you can’t fathom the thought that two boys can hug _and_ be friends?”

He looks more and more embarrassed by the second. It’s brilliant. There are very few things I like more than watching Snow turning into a babbling mess when we argue.

“Because you’re gay!” He eventually shouts. It takes all of my self control not to show any reaction to the words. “The both of you are gay and you were just snuggling!”

I cock one of my eyebrows. I know it drives him mad.

“So what you think,” I say coolly. “Is that two gay men can’t be friends, and that they _must_ be lovers because they’re animals who want to fuck every man they see?”

I can practically see smoke coming out of his ears, the room reeks of it. His magic must be boiling underneath his skin.

“You- I didn’t say that either! Stop putting words in my mouth!”

I give him a smirk, knowing that my next comment will particularly piss him off. “Then _use your words_ , Snow.”

He clenches his fist, pressing it against his mouth to contain himself…

“ _Fuck you_!”

… But Snow was never able to contain himself.

“God, you’re so- you- I- argh! I hate you so fucking much!” he groans, before storming out, slamming the door so hard he might have ripped it off its hinges.

His words echo in the room, even long after he’s gone, harsh, but said with such rage and conviction that they can only be true.

_I hate you so fucking much._

I wish I could say the same thing, and mean it. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Baz**

I’m sitting with Eliza and her friends for lunch, which is objectively awful, but it makes Snow glare at me more than usual so it’s not so bad. 

I was scared he’d do the Snow thing and shout that I’m gay in the middle of the dining hall, but he didn’t do it this morning during breakfast so he has no reason to do it now. 

My secret is safer than I thought.

Really safe, I think as I slide my hand along the table until it reaches Eliza’s, intertwining our fingers. Hers are so thin and soft, and when I bring them to my mouth to kiss her knuckles, they smell of roses. She must have applied hand cream there recently.

Her friends look at us with envy. Good.

I want to be something girls want. I never put my mind to it before, and everyone was too scared of me to desire me, but now that I  _ have  _ put my mind to it, I intend on being the boyfriend they wish they had.

People should be less likely to believe I’m gay in case rumours happen to be spread if the girls are all over me and I look like I enjoy their attention. 

Which I don’t. I really,  _ really _ don’t. It irritates me to no end to have them fawning over me, but it’s a necessary evil. 

Besides, they seem to be more interested in me now that my relationship with Eliza is official than they were before, paradoxically. I don’t understand girls. Shouldn’t they flirt with me  _ less  _ now that I have a girlfriend?

“Are you not going to eat?” Eliza asks after I put our hands back down on the table.

I shake my head. “I’m not hungry.”

“Oh. Okay,” she says, before turning back to her plate.

**…**

**Simon**

Baz isn’t eating.

He didn’t go down to the dining hall for dinner yesterday, and he didn’t eat breakfast either.

I hate it when he does that. He’s much too inclined to skipping meals. 

Maybe he doesn’t need food?

I don’t know. The books about vampires don’t say if they can survive only from the blood they drink -they only say how to kill them.

Either way I don’t like it. He’s thin enough already, he could use some more food.

Shouldn’t his girlfriend worry about this?

If he was my boyfriend, I sure as hell would try to make him eat some more. 

I mean. Not that Baz could be my boyfriend. I’m straight. And it’s not like I’d be attracted to him if I wasn’t. Yes, he’s hot but looks aren’t everything, and he is also a massive prick.

I guess his girlfriend just doesn’t care enough. Or she hasn’t noticed. She hasn’t been in Baz’s life nearly as long as  _ I  _ have.

“Stop staring at Baz, it’s creepy,” Penny says, shooting an annoyed glance at me. “Just go talk to him if you have something to say.”

I look back at her, frowning.

“Why would I have something to say to Baz?”

She waves her fork at me, chewing on her food and swallowing it before she answers. 

“You tell me. I’m not the one who’s looking at him even though he’s literally on the other side of the room, minding his own business.”

“That’s just what I do,” I mumble, forcing myself not to glance at Baz again.

**…**

**Penny**

Merlin, he’s so  _ dense. _

Yes, Simon, ‘That’s just what you do’, and  _ maybe  _ you should read something into it. 

“That doesn’t mean that it’s not weird. Why do you look at him like that all the time?”

_ Please _ , Si, do some introspection. Don’t just shr…

He shrugs.

I’m going to give up. He’s insufferable.

“I have to make sure he isn’t plotting something, I guess,” he says.

“I’m going to ban that word from our conversations. Baz isn’t  _ plotting,  _ he’s just having lunch with his girlfriend. Relax, and give him a break.”

He visibly cringes at the word “girlfriend”. Crowley, I’m going to slap him.

He only grunts before shoving food in his mouth.

**…**

**Baz**

“Can I  _ please  _ sleep here again?” I ask, giving Dev my best plaintive look.

He pushes me off his bed.

“What did Niall say?”

_ Niall  _ is a traitor and his opinion shouldn’t be taken into account.

He laughs from where he’s sitting at his desk, because he’s cruel like that.

I pout. “He said no.”

“Then why are you asking me?”

“Because you’re my cousin and you should therefore be good to me and not listen to Niall.”

Dev pretends to consider it, before he kicks my thigh so that I’m even further from his bed. 

“I think I’m going to listen to Niall, though,” he says with a wide smile. “Bye bye Baz, have fun with your roommate!”

“I hate you both so much.”

**…**

I walk back to my room like a man walking to his own funeral. 

I haven’t been in the same room as Snow without other people around since we argued after he saw Niall and I cuddling two days ago, and I’m not exactly looking forward to being alone with him again. 

There’s just so much he could ask me about.

Niall and I, because even if I told him we’re just friends, it’s Snow, he never believes a word I say.

My girlfriend, since he’s so obviously upset by the fact that I have one. He must be annoyed at the thought that he doesn’t have my undivided attention anymore -even though he  _ does _ . 

My queerness, because surely it must have been on his mind since he found the cursed pin.

And I don’t want to answer questions about any of that.

It’s with an unpleasant feeling in my throat that I absolutely hate that I enter my room.

Our room.

Snow is sitting on his bed, bent over a textbook. Poli Sci, I’d guess by the look of it. And the frown on Snow’s face.

He’s biting his pencil and it should gross me out but it’s just adorable because it’s  _ him _ . 

He startles when I close the door and looks up at me.

Something flashes in his eyes, different from the usual irritation or anger. Something… softer than this. Like relief.

Why in Merlin’s name would Snow be relieved to see me here? My presence in this room is poison to him.

“Stop biting your pencil, it’s disgusting,” I mumble, because I  _ have  _ to say something and it can’t be something nice.

I head towards my bed as he answers, with the same tone of voice “It’s not your pencil, why do you care?”

I don’t answer.

Instead I frown at what I can see on my bed. It looks like a letter?

I cross the distance a bit more hastily and pick it up. 

My name is written on it, in Snow’s handwriting, as well as  _ ‘Read it before you set it on fire’. _

I glance at him, raising a brow. He has a slight flush on his cheeks as he waves his wand. 

“Just do what it says,” he says, collecting his textbook before he hurries to the bathroom, his pencil stuck between his teeth.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Baz**

I consider Snow’s letter, completely astounded. 

Why did this moron write me a letter?

I sit on my bed, settling comfortably against the headboard before I unfold the piece of paper. Of course, this absolute mess of a man that is Simon Snow couldn’t find an envelope to put his letter in.

I wonder for how long it was on my bed. Did he write it tonight? Yesterday? Days, weeks ago but he’s only giving it to me now?

I flip it around, discovering a page covered in text, with the occasional crossing-out. He couldn’t be bothered rewriting whatever it is that he had to communicate to make it look cleaner, apparently. Though I have to admit, it seems more truthful to the person Snow is, those crossed-out words and letters.

Eventually, I focus on the text itself.

‘ _Baz,_

_Okay it was probably silly to start with your name, I already wrote it on the other side. Forget it._

_You know I’m shit with words, and when we talk we always end up arguing anyway, so I thought I’d try to write the things I have to say. You can’t insult me mid-sentence that way, and I can think of how to say things. But I’m still shit with words so don’t have high expectations. God, I can practically hear you think something like ‘I didn’t think you were Shakespeare, don’t worry Snow’. You’re such a prick._

_That’s not the point. Sorry for insulting you._

_So anyway. I know you probably don’t want to talk about it and honestly I don’t expect an answer from you. If anything, I expect you to tell me to fuck off and mind my business. But I still want to say this._

_I’m not as dumb as you think I am. I know what that pin was. It’s like the gay pride flag. That probably means you’re gay even though you said you were not because why else would you have that hidden in your closet? I’m also not so dumb that I can’t understand why you’d be hidding it, if you were gay. I can see how they treat your friend Niall. People aren’t really cool with people who are different here. But you don’t have to hide it from me, now that I know. I don’t care if you’re gay, Baz, I mean it. You don’t have to act all defensive about it. It’s really not a big deal for me. I mean why would I care if you’d rather kiss boys and not girls, it’s not like you’d want to kiss me anyway so it’s not my business._

_And because it’s not my business, I’m not going to go and tell people, in case you were afraid of that. I wouldn’t do that to you. I know you’re probably thinking about how I’ve been telling people you’re a vampire but that’s not the same thing alright? You being gay, it can’t cause harm to anyone. Except that girl you’re dating?????_

_I don’t get why you’re dating her if you’re gay??_

_But you’re not going to tell me. Of course._

_All of this to say, I’m really sorry I found that pin. I shouldn’t have stuck my nose in your business. I’ll try not to do it again. It would be easier if you stopped being so suspicious all the time, though._

_That’s not the point._

_I also wanted to apologize for saying you and Niall were boyfriends. It wasn’t cool to assume you were together just because you were hugging and you (might be) gay, sorry if I made you or him uncomfortable. But also if you lied about that and you’re actually with him, I don’t care you can bring him to the room I guess, just don’t, you know, do stuff when I’m here._

_Lastly, I don’t know if you’ll get this directly from me because you decided to come back to the room, or if you got it from one of your friends because you DIDN’T come back to the room, but the Mage is sending me away tomorrow and he said I’ll most likely need to spend the night where I’m going unless I’m efficient and I’m everything but efficient, so just, you can come back to the room, you won’t have to see my face._

_Sorry again for the whole finding out you’re (probably) gay because I’m nosy thing. I didn’t want to hurt you or anything. I don’t really like hurting you to be honest._

_Anyway, I think that’s all I have to say. You can burn the letter and pretend I never gave it to you now._

_Simon’_

**…**

**Simon**

I try to listen through the bathroom door to see if Baz burnt the letter the moment I left the room, but it doesn’t look like he has. Maybe he’ll _actually_ read it. I wish he would, just so that he knows I’m sorry.

I know I overstep a lot with Baz, and for the most part I don’t care about it, but _this_ is bad. I’d freak out so much if the roles were reversed and I was gay and Baz found out. I’d be so scared he’d tell everyone before _I_ was ready for people to know. That’s also why I need him to read what I wrote. Because I need him to know I _won’t_ tell his secret to anyone. Not even Penny, and I tell Penny everything.

I glance at the clock -I always thought it was super weird to have a clock in the bathroom, but it seems that it has proven itself useful. I’ve been in here for nearly 30 minutes. Surely that was enough for Baz to read my letter. I’ve watched— _seen_ him read sometimes and he can read an entire chapter of the history textbook in _20 minutes._ It takes me nearly an hour. So there’s no way he isn’t done with my letter, I can get out of here.

It’s not that the cold, hard tiles on the floor are uncomfortable to sit on, but the cold, hard tiles on the floor are uncomfortable to sit on.

**…**

**Baz**

I have no idea what to think.

Snow said sorry to me in his letter. _Multiple_ times. I don’t think he has ever apologized for a single thing he’s said or done -I haven’t either. But he apologized for pretty much forcing me out of the closet. And he said that he didn’t care and that he wouldn’t tell anyone.

It’s crazy.

Simon Snow isn’t supposed to be this kind to me. After all the shit I’ve thrown at him for years, he should be making fucking posters to tell the world I’m gay. Flyers. Make a public announcement.

But no.

He is just saying sorry, and that he’ll keep my secret.

He is also saying that I’d never want to kiss him, which causes me more annoyance than it should. Snow not having any suspicions that my sick affections are directed towards him is a good thing. 

Then why does the way he wrote _“it’s not like you’d want to kiss me anyway”_ hurt so much?

I sigh, letting go of the letter.

Is the thought that I might _want to kiss him_ really _that_ crazy to him? 

It’s not like it would have ever happened anyway, _he_ wouldn’t want to kiss me in a million years, and I don’t deserve a boy like him, but it’s not pleasant to be reminded that my truth is only an impossible scenario for him. 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Baz**

I know it would be wiser to get rid of it. To burn it, like Snow said. But as I make a flame appear on the tip of my finger, I simply can’t bring myself to do it.

This is the first real act of kindness Simon Snow has shown me since he offered me his friendship in first year and I turned him down. This is probably the  _ only  _ act of kindness Simon Snow will ever show me, because I don’t deserve his kindness and he has no reason to show me it.

I can’t let that go up in flames.

So even if it’s dangerous, even this letter could  _ ruin me _ with all the mentions to my being gay Snow made in it, I keep it. I fold it and slip it inside one of my desk drawers -with a concealment spell on it because I’m not that much of a fool- and I take a piece of paper on my desk, which I set on fire so that Snow will still smell smoke and think I burnt his letter.

Then I lay on my bed, grabbing the first book that falls under my hand, and opening it at a random page. I then pretend to read it, even though the words on  _ this  _ paper aren’t the ones I’m hearing in my head.

**…**

**Simon**

Baz is reading when I get out of the bathroom, seemingly completely unfazed by what I wrote.

I sigh.

He probably didn’t even read it.

I don’t mean to, but my gaze lingers on him. He has his back on me, and he’s pretending he doesn’t know I’m here, so I can look.

He’s lying on his stomach, holding himself up on his elbows, his head tilted down so that he can read.

He looks so graceful, even when he’s just… there, doing nothing. The line of his spine, the curve of his back, have such a beauty to them you’d think they’d been sculpted carefully. 

Baz’s entire body looks like it’s been sculpted careful. I can’t see the front of it of course, and it’s not like I’ve ever seen Baz in a tight shirt to really know what his torso looks like, but I just  _ know  _ it looks as good as the rest of him. And I also know, but for  _ sure  _ that his legs look just as good as the rest. Seeing him on the field in his ridiculous football shorts always made anger pool in my stomach. The bastard is so bloody fit, even his  _ legs  _ look good. It’s like he  _ has  _ to be perfect. It’s so irritating.

I let my eyes move to said legs, but they stop on their own accord in a part of him that makes me blush. 

Crowley, have his trousers always been so tight around his arse?

_ What the fuck Simon. _

Why am I even thinking about Baz’s arse? I mean, it’s a nice looking arse, for sure. But it’s Baz’s. He’s mean. It doesn’t matter if he’s hot. Being mean isn’t attractive.

Not that I would consider Baz attractive if he was not a prick. He’s a bloke. 

_ Anyway _ .

I should look away now.

I glance back up, and…

Fuck.

Baz has craned his neck some time while I was looking at him, so now he’s looking at  _ me  _ and he caught me staring at his arse. I want to die.

He raises one of his stupidly perfect eyebrows.

“A problem, Snow? Do I have a stain on my butt or something?” he asks, faking innocence.

Kill me now.

I should have left the room for the night when he came back, not waited in the bathroom, Jesus Christ.

“I wasn’t looking at your butt,” I mumble, my cheeks burning so much that they’re probably hotter than Baz has ever been in his entire life.

He shifts, pushing his arse up a bit more. Which I shouldn’t have noticed. He smirks at me. “You sure weren’t.”

And then he simply goes back to reading his book.

God, why is living with him like this. What awful things did I do in another life to deserve  _ Baz fucking Pitch  _ as my roommate.

I cross the distance to my bed, tossing my history textbook and pencil on my desk before grabbing my covers, wrapping them around me. I don’t trust my spells enough to keep me warm. I’d probably end up setting myself on fire if I tried using a heating spell on myself. 

I’m on my way to leave the room when Baz’s voice stops me.

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing?”

I turn around to look at him.

“Going to the White Chapel. To sleep.”

**…**

**Baz**

_ I don’t care if you’re gay  _ my arse.

**…**

**Simon**

“I’m not going to rape you in your sleep, you can stay,” Baz says, his voice biting.

What?

I shoot him a confused glance. “What the hell are you saying?”

“You don’t have to run away. Even if I were gay, I’m not a predator.”

So he still won’t admit he’s gay. Christ.

He also thinks that I see him as some kind of weirdo because I think he’s gay. Which is  _ not  _ the case at all.

Besides, he probably didn’t become gay last week and we’ve been sharing a room for years, so…

“Baz. I’m not leaving because I think you’re a perv or something, I know you’re not gonna do weird things to me just because you’re gay, it’s just… you didn’t come to the room last night. You  _ obviously  _ don’t want to see me, and I understand why. So I thought I’d go to the White Chapel. You could sleep here without having to breathe the same air as me.”

“That’s your master plan? You do realize I  _ never  _ want to be breathing the same air as you, and yet I’ve done it for five years.” 

I roll my eyes. I genuinely wonder if he can say  _ one  _ sentence to me without being a cunt. 

“My point is,” he continues, “You can stay. Besides, didn’t you say that you were going on a mission tomorrow? You could use some sleep in a real bed before that. It would be a pity if you got yourself killed before I could end you myself.”

And to think that for a moment I thought he cared about me enough to want me to rest before a mission. 

But wait…

“So you’ve actually read my letter?” I say, sounding probably a bit too surprised.

I really thought he’d just burn it. I didn’t actually plan for him to read it.

“Yes. And I have nothing to say about it so don’t ask.”

Yeah.  _ That  _ was expectable.

**…**

**Baz**

Snow throws his blanket back on his bed -was this moron really going to sleep in the White Chapel?- and promptly throws  _ himself  _ on it. He doesn’t have an ounce of elegance in his entire being.

It’s disgusting how much I ache to know what it would feel like if his body fell on mine like it did on his mattress.

I shake my head, before glancing at the clock. It’s not late by my standards, but Snow goes to bed much earlier than I do and he  _ needs  _ to rest if he’s going to do the Mage’s bidding tomorrow.

My hands clench around the book at the thought of it.

Another day of being worried sick for that idiot. Brilliant. 

I  _ hate  _ how much the Mage uses him. Isn’t he supposed to be in charge of protecting our World? He shouldn’t need a bloody kid to kill things for him.

I grab my want and cast the spell to turn the lights off. Snow gasps, surprised.

“You’re going to bed already?” 

“No, I’m going to read in the dark because I’m a vampire and I have night vision,” I answer, making sure to make my sarcasm so obvious it’s almost palpable.

Though really, I  _ could  _ read in the dark. But I’m not going to.

To show Snow that I’m joking, since he can be quite dense, I put my book down on my desk, making more noise than I usually would just so that he can hear it.

Then, I shuffle in bed, pulling my covers up over myself and turning on my side to look at him. He can’t see me but I can.

**…**

**Simon**

“Snow?”

His voice startles me. The room had been silent for a while now, except for the sound of my breathing and of the rain on the window.

“Yeah?” I answer, half asleep already.

“Sorry for what I said about your parents. It was uncalled for, and cruel. Also… try not to get yourself killed tomorrow. The world still needs you.”

**…**

**Baz**

_ I  _ still need you.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Baz**

Bloody nightmares.

I am quite familiar with those, something that I assume is normal when you have been forcefully turned into a vampire early in your childhood  _ and  _ lost your mother the same day, and when on top of that you have unnatural feelings for your roommate who hate you that could bring shame to your name if people knew about them.

But the worst of my dreams, the ones that leave me the most desperate, it’s paradoxically not the ones full of fire and screams and sharp pains in my neck, not those full of my father’s screams. It’s the ones that fill me with glee when I’m having. The ones where I’m a decade or two older than I am now, coming home to a tawny skinned, blue eyed man whose smile shines as bright as the band around his ring finger. The ones where I don’t have to hide, the ones where I’m  _ happy _ .

They’re the ones that hurt the most, because they’re not associated with bad memories that I already relive much too often. They’re not a lingering pain, always there faintly, not just in bad dreams. They’re a sudden, bone-crushing fall. They’re pulled out from the deepest, most well hidden part of my heart. They’re representations of my greatest desires, those desires I’ve grown to be so good at suppressing.

They’re everything I want and could never have. 

They’re a reminder that who I am is wrong and that no matter how much I’m aching for this to be my future, it can’t be. 

And it fucking  _ hurts _ .

Particularly when I wake up from those only a few steps away from the sleeping shape of the cause for all my torments.

I take my time to look at him. I always do when he can’t look back.

He’s sleeping curled up in a ball, taking up as little space as possible on his bed like he always does, and he’s turned towards me. He rarely is, more often than not he has his back on me, which isn’t so bad either because I get to look at his broad shoulders and the constellations of moles on his back, but I particularly like it when he’s like this.

When I can see his beautiful face.

In all objectivity, Simon Snow isn’t the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. His eyes are a bit too small for his face, his teeth are crooked and his lips very thin, his hair is always a mess. He looks unkept. It’s like he wears the chaos of his person on his face.

But to me he’s still stunning. Because his eyes are a shade of blue so ordinary but so breathtaking at the same time. Because his crooked teeth and small lips somehow make those huge grins that are never for me look more genuine and warm. Because the mess of curls on top of his head soften features that would be too harsh for a boy as sweet and kind-hearted as him otherwise. 

I sigh.

I have to stop looking at him. I can’t… I shouldn’t look at him like  _ that  _ ever. I’m never going to be able to go through with my pretense to be straight if I let myself be mesmerized by Simon Snow whenever I lay my eyes on him.

I get out of bed, discreetly opening my closet and taking out a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a long sleeved shirt that I put on. It’s too late for me to be able to fall asleep again before my alarm goes off, but it’s too early to go sit at breakfast with Dev and Niall, so instead, I’m going to go for a run. 

It’ll clear my head of all fantasist thoughts of a future with a man, with  _ this  _ man.

But before I leave…

I grab a pen and a piece of paper, bending over my desk to write.

**…**

My muscles are straining, I’m sweating a rather large amount for someone who doesn’t produce body heat, my stomach grunts in need of food, my lungs hurt whenever I take a breath, and adrenaline makes my heart beat at almost a normal rate. 

It’s exhilarating.

I love how exercising makes me feel. When my entire body is aching, I truly feel like I  _ have  _ a body. It sounds stupid, but it’s easy to forget. I don’t easily get hurt. My skin is stone cold, and rarely warms up. I don’t get sick unless I make myself sick with my thoughts. I don’t need to eat or breathe like a normal person. I’m no better than a walking corpse.

But when I’m like this, I feel  _ alive.  _

There are very few other things that make me feel that way, and they all have something to do with a certain boy…

**…**

I walk a bit faster when I see Eliza. 

It’s better to catch her before breakfast. I can make a show out of saying hello to her in front of her friends, and then I can go with  _ my _ friends. Otherwise, I’d have to say hello to her when she’s at her table, and to stay there because it would be rude and strange of me to leave.

I snake my arm around her waist when I know that she has noticed me coming.

She turns her head towards me and gives me a smile.

“Hi.”

I smile back. “Hello.”

I lean down for a quick kiss, stroking her side with the hand that is holding her in a way that looks absentminded but that truly is calculated. Everything I do with her is calculated.

She hasn’t put on her damned lip gloss yet, so the kiss isn’t as bad as it could be. Her lips are just too plump, too smooth, and taste too sweet because of her watermelon -yesterday it was strawberry- chapstick.

I know for a fact that Snow’s lips wouldn’t feel like that. I’m not sure the idiot has ever heard of chapstick. 

_ Don’t think about Snow, that’s the whole fucking point. _

“You look a mess,” Eliza tells me, in a way that isn’t entirely judging but that isn’t tender either.

“I went for a jog.”

She scrunches her nose.

“I don’t know how you do it. Who has the will to go run early in the morning? Besides if it makes you look like that,” she says, waving in the general direction of my face. “Maybe you should refrain from doing that.”

Her comment ruins my appetite that running had  _ finally  _ built up.

**…**

**Simon**

Baz isn’t in the room when I wake up.

If today was a regular day, that would be strange. I wake up for classes much earlier than he does. But today is  _ not  _ a normal day. I’m going on a mission, so I can oversleep -the Mage is driving me to wherever it is I have to be in the afternoon- and I  _ did _ . The sun is high in the sky when I open my eyes, filling the room. 

I know that Baz doesn’t need light to get ready -because he’s a vampire- he only opened the blinds to  _ pretend  _ he needed it.

I have to give him that, he’s very at  _ pretending  _ to be normal. I’d have fucked up a million times already if I was the one who was a vampire. The whole world would know.

I stir in bed, trying to stretch the fatigue out of my lungs and rub the sleep out of my eyes, and then I get up. 

I pick my blanket up from the floor and throw it on my bed -I’ll be glad to have it here and not on the floor when I come back to the room after my mission- and that’s when I see it.

On my desk, there’s a note.

I frown, and reach out to take it.

Here, on a small piece of paper, in Baz’s neat, elegant handwriting, are written two words ; ‘ _ Don’t die’ _ .


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Simon**

The blood on my hand stains the small piece of paper when I take it out of my pocket. I’m trembling so much, it’s hard to read it, so I just focus on the handwriting.

Those loopy letters, perfectly drawn. In the middle of nowhere, somewhere in the north of the country, with no one I know around and nothing but the forest in sight, they are the most familiar thing I have.

Besides, I know what the words are.

_‘Don’t die’._

Yeah, I might fail that, I think bitterly. 

Everything went well, at first. I was in the woods to retrieve some artifact for the Mage, a weird, ancient goblet made of some heavy metal with a few gemstones mounted on it. I have no idea what he wants to do with that, but I feel like the Mage collects magickal artifacts for the sake of it. Probably trying to imitate the Families and their collections of dark objects…

_Whatever._

So, everything was going well.

Until the Goblins struck. 

I don’t know why they’re so interested in me, but they are. It’s not rare that they attack me, and I can usually control the situation rather quickly, but usually they don’t attack like _that_.

In the middle of the night, after I spent the evening and the beginning of the night searching for the blasted goblet, exhausting myself in the process. 

It wasn’t a fair fight at all. Goblins see better in the dark than I do -I was so tired I barely could have seen, even in broad daylight…- and I was already so _weak._ I managed to beat them, though, because despite everything, the Sword of Mages is deadly and I’m pretty damn good at using it, but they harmed me quite severely.

I can feel hot blood on my shirt, and my head hurts like hell from being hit. One of my eyes is swollen and I have nasty bite marks on my hand. My ankle got twisted in a scary angle when I tripped and fell shortly after killing the two Goblins.

I haven’t even fucking been able to stand back up. 

Tears rush to my eyes.

I’ll never be able to go home. The Mage gave me money for a taxi and train ticket back to school, but to be able to spend the money, I’d have to go back to the town the Mage showed me on our way here, a few miles away from the woods. How could I bloody do that when I can’t even get up on my feet.

A tear rolls down my cheek, falling on the piece of paper, making the ink smudge. 

_‘Don’t die’._

I don’t bloody want to.

But my healing spells are a disaster, I’d kill myself before I saved myself, I need _actual_ help. 

_I need to fucking go home._

I would get help there. 

I think of that. Of home. I know Penny said teleportation spells aren’t a thing, but my magic is one of a kind and I’m so fucking _desperate_ and magic is also about intent, so I still try.

My throat dry, I say all the phrases with the word ‘home’ I can think of, while keeping _home_ in mind, and with as much magic in my voice as I can.

“ **Home sweet home. Make yourself at home.** ” 

_It’s not fucking working._

A sob escapes my lips.

I don’t want to die here, please, I don’t want to die.

My hand clenches around the note. 

_‘Don’t die’._

The paper feels hot, as if it were soaked in Baz’s fire magic.

“ **There’s no place like home. Home is where the heart is**.”

**…**

**Baz**

I wasn’t expecting much from tonight.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep, not when Snow is away doing Merlin knows what for the Mage, so I started watching the first movie Netflix suggested when I opened it, just to have something to focus my eyes on. That’s the only advantage about Snow’s absence, I can use my laptop. And my phone, but there’s not really anyone I could text this late. Even Fi is in bed by now. 

So I was simply watching movies, with an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach caused by my worry, when I heard a loud, sudden thump. 

I jumped, and my computer would have fallen off my lap if I didn’t have such good reflexes.

I put it down on the bed, looking around the room, confused as to where that sound came from, and then I saw it.

Well, I saw _him._

Simon Snow. On the floor between our two beds, flat on his stomach.

The buttery smell of his blood hits me like a punch in the guts.

_What the fuck._

Praying my fangs won’t drop -the smell is _so_ strong and _so_ delicious- I scramble to grab my wand, casting a spell to cover the room in artificial, yellowish light. 

The sight of him makes my stomach drop.

Even if he’s on his stomach, I can see the huge blood stain on his shirt, and he looks completely inert.

Fuck my dignity. 

I throw myself on my knees next to him, flipping him over quickly. It probably hurts, but I would have had more chances to fuck up if I had been slow and careful.

“Snow!”

His eyes are barely open, but they _are_ open.

He gives me a small, weak smile. His teeth are bloody too. It makes me shiver, and not in the _I’m a vampire and I want to lick it_ way.

“Baz…” His voice is dry, broken, and his cheeks wet with tears. It breaks my heart. “Please, help.” 

Of course I’m going to fucking help him. 

“Snow,” I say again when I see his eyes flutter. I have a lisp, but I don’t even bloody care. My heart is beating too fast in my chest, and there’s a bit too much emotion in my voice. “Simon, stay with me.”

He opens his mouth, as if to say something, but inconscience strikes him before he can, his body sagging a little. 

_No._

“Stay with me, please Simon I need you to stay with me,” I say even though it’s useless.

I have to pull myself back together. I have to help him. I’m his only chance. If I went for the Mage or the nurse, he might die before I could return.

He’s lost so much blood…

Besides I don’t trust any of those other fucking people with him. I’m a Pitch. Magic is all I am. 

_Pitches are stronger, more powerful._

I pinch my nose with my right hand, firmly holding my wand in my other hand, trying to make the presence of the blood more bearable. It’s still awful, but I can smell it less that way.

Now that I’m somewhat ready to tend to him, I survey his body, when I notice a detail that makes my heart jump.

In his closed hand is a small piece of paper, with my handwriting on it.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Baz**

He kept my note. 

I thought he’d throw it away, but no, he kept it, and he was even  _ holding  _ it before he did whatever it is that he did to end up here -which is definitely intriguing but I don’t have time to reflect on Snow’s weird magickal abilities. If anyone can use magic to teleport, of course it’s going to be him. 

_ Focus, Basilton. _

I point my wand to his stomach. He has deep, long scratch marks there, from his navel to his side. I wince, wondering what creature could have possibly done that to him, and thinking about how much it must have hurt. How much it must  _ still  _ hurt _.  _

First I cast a diagnosis spell on the wound -it’s more precise than to cast it on his entire body- to make sure whatever it is that scratched him isn’t venomous. 

No poison. Thank Merlin.

Relieved by that piece of information -in this situation, I’ll take whatever relief I can- I start casting spells to close Snow’s wound. I need three of them, but at the end, he only has the faintest of scars. 

Now that his more worrying injury has been treated, I can make myself more comfortable by making the blood disappear. Its sweet taste, that I can feel in my mouth despite the fact that I have obviously not  _ actually  _ tasted it is killing me. Snow’s blood smells and seems to taste nothing like all the blood I’ve drunk in the past, even the most delicious kind -unicorn blood, it tastes like lavender. 

I hesitate to take Snow’s clothes off. He has blood stains a little bit everywhere, so he  _ must  _ be hurt everywhere, however, I don’t want to overstep. Once he will not longer be unconscious anymore, I’m  _ sure  _ he’ll hate the thought of his gay vampire of a roommate surrounded by his blood, taking his clothes off.

Fuck it.

He already hates me, it won’t make things much worse, and it’s not like it’s going to turn me on seeing his body when he’s covered in blood and has passed out. I’m not  _ that  _ disturbed, the entire situation turns my stomach. 

So, I stand up and go look through my desk drawers to find a pair of scissors. Snow’s clothes are already ruined anyway, and I need to save as much magic as I can. As much as I hate the people who claim magic is something we should save, I’m not stupid and I know that it  _ is  _ possible to run out of it if you cast too many spells -or too intense ones- at once. 

After finding the scissors, I kneel back on the floor next to Snow, bent over his body as I carefully cut his clothes with shaky hands, making sure not to jab his skin with the scissor blades. 

I’m a bit hesitant about his trousers, so I work on fixing his torso first. He has a few little scratches, and bruises that make me want to snap the neck of whatever put them there, but nothing too serious, thank magic. I heal him slowly, because I’ve been told my magic could be hard to handle and even if he is unconscious, his body is just as affected by my magic as it would be if he was awake. I don’t want to make things worse for him by making my healing too intense. 

Gradually, my hands tremble less and less in between spells. 

Once his chest doesn’t look so beaten up anymore, I glance at his legs. Our school trousers -which is what Snow is wearing because of course the moron couldn’t think of putting on tracksuit bottoms- are too tight to be pulled up, I won’t have access to anything past his calves and he has a deep blood stain above his knee on his right leg despite the fact that I cast a spell to make the blood vanish earlier, which means it’s still leaking. 

Once again,  _ fuck it _ . His safety is more important than his possible embarrassment.

I cut the right leg of his trousers in the middle, parting it when I reach his thigh to see his wound. This one looks like it has been caused by a blade, not claws.

I heal it like I did his other wounds, before casting a spell to make this blood disappear too.

The last spell I cast is the magic equivalent of painkillers. I’d rather he didn’t wake up suffering.

If he wakes up.

_ No. _

That’s a bad thought.

He  _ is  _ going to wake up. I patched him up, he’s okay. He’s stronger than a few wounds. He’s  _ Simon Snow. _

I don’t want him to sleep in those dirty, uncomfortable, bloodied clothes, so I cut his trousers a bit more to be able to take them off completely, thanking all of the entities I know that Snow isn’t one of those people who don’t wear underwear. I’m not sure what the sight of his bare cock would have done to me but it probably wouldn’t have been anything good.

Then, I quickly get pyjamas from my own closet -Snow only has the school issued ones, and they’re thin as paper, he needs something better- and spell them bigger so that they’ll fit his sturdy figure before I put them on him awkwardly. I know how to put Mordelia in pyjamas when she’s asleep, but Snow is significantly heavier and taller than my little sister. 

I took those pyjamas because they’re the softest I own, but I have to say, their dark blue shade looks lovely on him.

After that, I slide my hands under his knees and neck, carrying him up bridal style to lay him on his bed. I pull the covers over him, not tucking them because I know it makes some people feel trapped and Snow might be one of those people, and then I take a few, shameful seconds to look at him.

If I didn’t know he had fainted, I’d think he was asleep. He looks calm. He’s absolutely breathtaking. 

It’s reckless, and unnecessary, and he would kill me if he knew, but I lean down and press a kiss to his temple, close to his ear. His skin is so soft.

There’s a lump in my throat that makes my voice sound more broken than I want it to be when I whisper, “Please Simon. Please wake up. You can’t die now.”

I glance at the paper that is still in his hand when I say that.

_ ‘Don’t die’ _ . It’s such a silly, blunt note, but writing it shook me to my core. It seems so simple, and yet, it shows more of my feelings for him than anything else I’ve ever done. It’s like I gave him a minuscule piece of my heart, and I’m sure he’s none the wiser about it.

I’m sure he doesn’t understand that this means  _ ‘Don’t die because I need you’. ‘Don’t die because I love you so much I think it would kill me too’.  _

Before I can let my emotions overwhelm me, I straighten my back, standing back up, but my eyes are still burning with tears as I head towards the window to open it.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Baz**

I can’t sleep that night.

_ Of course _ I can’t sleep that night. How could I when I don’t know when Simon Snow will wake up. How could I when it might mean missing the moment he wakes up. How could I when I know the boy who makes my heart flutter when he so much as looks my way is in such a situation.

So instead of sleeping, I look at him. Which is well creepy, I’ll give you that, but I don’t have that many occasions to do so, and I’m afraid he might disappear if I take my eyes off him. 

Hours pass by.

He moves slightly, some of his breaths deeper or shallower than others, his eyebrows furrow and his lips twitch, he drools on his pillow -mouth breather- he mumbles some words I don’t understand, but he doesn’t wake up.

But he doesn’t look like he’s dying anymore either. He’s wriggling around, he’s  _ alive. _

The relief that washes through me when I realize that now he’s simply sleeping, like he would any other night, is indescribable.

It makes my shoulder drop, releasing the tension that had taken place in them since I heard the loud thump that Simon Snow’s body made when it fell on the floor of our room. I sigh heavily, rubbing my face with a shaky hand.

_ Fucking chill Baz, he’s okay. _

It’s like the adrenaline of seeing him like this, and all of the control I had to exert on myself to heal him are just now fading, and I’m left here, raw and fragile. 

My knees somehow end up pulled up against my chest, and my head somehow ends up buried in them, and my arms somehow end up around them.

Somehow, tears start flowing down my cheeks.

He was so weak when he materialized here.

I’m trembling all over, crying rivers of hot, salty tears and sobbing like a little child.

He was bleeding out.

His blood was  _ everywhere _ .

On his clothes, on his skin, on the floor, on the note.

On my hands, even, when I accidentally touched him.

It was everywhere.

And it wasn’t even that tempting.

It  _ should  _ have tempted me. It was warm, human blood, directly from the source. Surely, it would have been the best thing I’d ever tasted in my life. 

But it was  _ Simon Snow’s  _ blood, which he was losing, his life more and more threatened with every dark red drop that flowed from his wounds. 

He could have  _ died. _

I could have lost him. 

**…**

It takes three glasses of water, coughing up nothing but bile, bent over the toilet seat, and a calming spell cast with a shaky, wrecked voice for me to be able to stop crying and trembling. 

Aleister Crowley, I don’t know why my body reacted so strongly to  _ letting go _ , but I fucking hate it.

I drink another glass of water, for the sake of my too dry throat, and then I’m going back to my room. That’s where I should be.

The sky outside is a lovely orange shape. It’s early, so very early. I’d never be up this early if I had slept.

I allow myself a distraction -Snow is still sound asleep- and look out of the window. I so rarely get to see the sunrise, because I spend my all-nighters with the blinds closed, so I’m not looking outside at the sun even when I’m awake. 

There’s something so peaceful about it. It helps my poor heart that has gone through too much tonight calm down a bit more than it had just thanks to the spell. 

Is Simon Snow the kind to watch the sunrise?

I’m sure he is. Snow thoroughly enjoys the simple things in life, in a way that I find so admirable. There’s something so beautiful about being able to wonder at the snow falling in the winter, the flowers blooming in spring, the taste of a food you like, a magic trick, a warm bed after a cold day. 

Simon has such a pure soul, I think as I look back at him.

He’s so deeply  _ good _ .

He’s everything I’m not.

**…**

The sky has taken its usual, rainy grey shade when I hear Snow take a  _ much  _ deeper breath, the tell tale sign that he’s going to wake up. Even if I’m usually up  _ after  _ him, we’ve lived together for 5 years. I’ve been up before him a generous enough amount of times to know how he is like when he comes awake.

He lets out a sound halfway between a groan, a moan, and a sigh at the same time as he shuffles in bed, and I hold my breath, waiting for the moment when he’ll open his eyes and make them fall on me.

It arrives soon.

He rubs his eyes, and then they’re looking around until they find me.

“Baz,” he says, his voice so dry it sounds like his vocal chords have been rubbed with sandpaper. 

“Hello, Snow,” I say, my voice less cold than it usually is with him.

I can give him that.

I can give myself that.

A little bit of softness.

“You called me Simon yesterday.”

His raspy voice shouldn’t make warmth pool in my stomach. 

“No I did not. You were too out of it to remember anything,” I answer as I stand from my bed. I see that the moron tries to push himself up, probably in a sitting position, and I glare at him. “ _ Don’t move _ , you fool. You’ll hurt yourself and ruin all the hard work I put into fixing you.”

He chuckles at that, and the sound, as ugly as it may be, is something I wish I could catch and keep with me forever. 

It’s so sweet, so different from the kind of sounds I usually get out of him.

“I wouldn’t want your work to go to waste,” he says, clearly making fun of me, but he still obeys.

This is weird.

The teasing, and Snow obeying instead of being difficult. It’s not supposed to happen. We hate each other. 

Well, he hates me. I try to convince everyone, including myself -particularly myself- that I hate him. 

I’m not going to complain, though. I’d take every crumb of attention I can receive from Simon Snow, and it’s even better if we aren’t fighting.

I retrieve a glass, which I fill with tap water in the bathroom before going back to my room. Snow is patiently lying on his bed, his eyes on the bathroom door, and then, me. 

“Are you going to drown if I don’t hold your head up or can you drink on your own?” I ask as I stand on the edge of his bed, looking down at him.

“Well, you don’t want me to sit up, so maybe you should help,” he answers, with a hint of amusement in his voice.

I’m sure he gets off on being served by me. 

I would probably be more mad at it if it didn’t make me ecstatic to be able to take care of him, to act with him the way I’ve always wanted to. 

So I ignore his mockery, and simply sit on his bed, taking up as little space as I can. 

I slide my hand behind his head carefully -too carefully, I shouldn’t be so tender, it’s suspicious- and tilt it up enough to make him drink.

Once the glass is empty, I put it down on the floor. I notice Snow’s grin when I look up.

“You’d make a great nurse,” he says, giggling.

I can’t believe he has the  _ nerve  _ to take the piss out of me after I saved his life.

“I should have let you die,” I mutter between gritted teeth


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone who read my Studies series is interested, I posted one of the bonuses for Baz’s birthday ^^

**Simon**

“I should have let you die.”

It’s as biting as everything he’s ever said to me, but I don’t take offense because I know he doesn’t mean it. He wouldn’t have healed me if he meant it. 

My thumb strokes the paper in my hand.

He wouldn’t have written the note if he meant it.

“Baz?”

“What?” he groans.

“Why didn’t you let me die?”

It would have saved him a lot of trouble. He could have gone on with his life without my presence in it. He could have boasted to the Families. He had no reason to want me to live. No reason to tell me to try not getting myself killed, no reason to write those two words on the note, no reason to use his magic on me last night.

“You’re entertaining enough. I’d get bored if I couldn’t watch you make a fool of yourself a hundred times a day,” he answers, with a smile tugging at his lips.

Not one of his snarky smirks, though. Just a smile.

This is weird.

How easy things have been since I woke up. The playfulness. Baz saying mean stuff without sounding genuine about it, and while still taking care of me, giving me water and making me drink it. 

It’s weird but I don’t hate it. I hope I won’t ruin it. I hope he won’t decide to go back to being an insufferable prick.

I punch his thigh, for the hell of it. Playfully.

“You’re such an arsehole.”

“I never pretended to be anything else,” he answers as he bends down to pick up the glass that he had put down only a minute ago. 

Then he stands from my bed. I almost reach out to hold his arm and ask him to stay.

Almost.

Instead, I watch him go back to the bathroom with the glass.

My heart squeezes. Is it over already? Is he going to be his usual self again when he exits the bathroom?

**…**

**Baz**

This is so much.

I thought Snow might push me away. Laugh at my attempts to take care of him - _ really  _ laugh at it, not like the teasing joke he made about me being a good nurse. But he isn’t and it’s confusing me. I don’t want to be the one who becomes antagonistic first, but I’m not sure I could handle having Simon Snow be nice to me only for him to go back to hating me when he’ll have recovered and come back to his senses.

I don’t know what to do.

But…

But I’m going to suffer either way. So I’d better enjoy this while it lasts. 

**…**

**Simon**

It’s when Baz comes back in the room that I notice that he’s in his pyjamas. It hadn’t struck me before -I still feel a little bit like I’m floating- but he  _ is _ . I think I’ve seen Baz being awake and wearing pyjamas less than 10 times since first year. It’s surprising, but not in a bad way. It makes him look more… accessible. 

He’s a real person. Sometimes he walks around in comfortable pyjamas, he isn’t always wearing perfectly tailored, posh clothes -he even makes the Watford uniform look fancy. 

He climbs on his bed.

I wish he had come back and sat on the edge of mine, like before. 

“You’re wearing your pyjamas,” I say, because I’m a complete moron.

“So are you.”

What?

I look down at myself.

Oh.

That’s definitely not my uniform.

What the—

My eyes fly to him.

“You changed my clothes?”

He looks away. 

Shit, I hope he doesn’t think I’m mad at him for undressing me because he’s gay or something. I’m not angry, I’m just surprised. 

“Yes. I hope you don’t mind, but I needed to see your wounds to heal them so I had to cut your uniform. I’ll fix it, of course, but… I thought you’d be more comfortable in pyjamas to sleep.”

That’s… so thoughtful. It makes my heart clench in my chest. Who knew Baz Pitch was capable of being thoughtful?

“No, no, of course I don’t mind,” I say, trying to comfort him. Why do I want to comfort him? I never really cared about hurting his feelings before. “It’s… nice, thank you. But… why one of  _ your  _ pyjamas?”

I’m pretty sure I don’t fit in Baz’s clothes, his legs are so long, and I have broader shoulders, besides, why would Baz want his posh clothes anywhere near me.

“Well, not all of us disrespect their roommate's privacy. I didn’t want to look into your closet.”

The comment makes me blush. 

“Sorry for that again.”

He brushes it off with a wave of his hand. “Don’t mention it.”

**…**

**Baz**

With that, Snow lets his head fall back on his pillow, not looking at me anymore. 

I want to continue talking to him, but I don’t want to be annoying. He is probably still exhausted from whatever it is that he did yesterday, and weak from all the blood he lost, so I’m not going to push him. If he talks to me though, I’ll gladly answer.

But when he does talk to me, it’s to say words that make my shoulders drop.

“Shouldn’t you be going to class? We have Greek at 9 on Fridays.”

I wasn’t even thinking about class. All I was thinking about was him. Staying with him. Making sure he’s okay. Screw classes. I’m not going to fail because I miss a day. I could miss bloody weeks and still be the best student in our year.

But of course he doesn’t want me to stay with him. Why would he? I’m just Baz, his mean, bully of a roommate. Showing him some kindness once isn’t going to make him bear my presence or hate me less.

I decide to tell him the truth though. I could make up a lie and say I didn’t see the time, but I don’t want to.

“I was thinking I could stay with you. You know, so that I could make sure that you’re not ruining all of my hard work by doing something dumb and injuring yourself, but that was a stupid thought, I understand that you don’t want that,” I say as I stand from my bed, already heading towards my closet to take my uniform out.

“Baz, no!”

I freeze.

“I mean,” Snow says. “You can stay if you want. I just didn’t think you’d want to miss classes to play nurse for me.” He chuckles nervously. “It’s not like you like me.”

I love you.

**…**

**Simon**

Now that I have considered the thought of Baz staying, it’s all I want. I don’t want to be alone here, and I can’t ask Penny to come without it being suspicious.

Besides…

I’m kind of enjoying the fact that Baz is taking care of me. I kind of like not fighting with him. 

I’m tense as he stands there in silence. Is he going to get ready to leave, or is he going to stay?

He turns around, giving me a sincere, shy smile that shakes me to my core.

“Alright then, I’ll stay.”


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Simon**

I’m starting to wonder if whatever spell I managed to cast back in the forest didn’t take me to a parallel universe where Baz is nice to me. Objectively, I know that’s not what happened, but at least it would explain his behaviour.

Right now, he’s shaking that my scars are clean and that none reopened, carefully parting the tails of the pyjama top. 

Maybe I should be more bothered by Baz pushing my trousers down and opening my shirt since, you know, he’s  _ Baz _ , and he’s  _ gay _ , but I’ve been sleeping shirtless since about the middle of second year so this is nothing he hasn’t seen before. And he healed me last night and changed my clothes so yeah, he’s definitely already seen me almost starkers.

He gestures to me to lift my hips so that he can slip the pyjama bottoms  _ -his  _ pyjama bottoms- back in place, but he doesn’t close the shirt.

“Do you want to put clothes on or are these alright? I can also lend you another set of pyjamas if those are too hot for you. I have thinner ones.”

I still can’t comprehend the fact that  _ Baz Pitch  _ would willingly let me wear his clothes.

I shake my head. “They’re perfect.”

They are. I don’t feel like I’m going to overheat in them, but they keep me warm, and the fabric is softer than anything I’ve ever worn. Merlin, and to think that Baz has most likely slept in things like this since he was a baby while I didn’t even have clothes that fit me until I had my school uniform. The life of rich people really seems nice. 

“Okay,” Baz says, as he starts buttoning my shirt.

I could do that on my own, I’m not feeling  _ that  _ weak, but it’s nice having someone tending to me, for once. Having  _ Baz  _ tending to me.

His knuckles brush my neck when he works on the top button, and it makes me swallow with difficulty.

Then, he’s moving back, standing to go back to his bed. I don’t really want to but he insists on me lying down and sitting on the edge of my bed would get uncomfortable for him after some time, so I let him. Besides, he’s isn’t that far away.

He sits with his legs crossed, a widely unusual position for him. It’s so… casual. It’s how little kids sit. The only time Baz crosses his legs when he sits is when he’s sitting on a chair and he crosses them in that elegant way Agatha and a lot of the girls also do. 

“Snow, I wanted to ask…” he starts, waiting for me to look up and meet his eyes. I nod when I do, and so he continues. “How did you get here last night? Teleportation spells don’t exist. I don’t doubt that you somehow made one up with how peculiar your magic is but… How? And what happened for you to be in the state you were?”

I sigh, not because the questions particularly bother me, but because it’s going to be a mess to tell. I’m not really good at telling things. Penny can put up with my horrible way to narrate things when I talk to her about my missions but Baz may make fun of me for my lack of eloquence or something like that. 

“So, uh, I guess I should start with my mission. The Mage wanted me to retrieve something for him in a forest so well, I did, and I used one of the very little spells he taught me that I don’t fuck up to send the object back to him. He doesn’t trust me not to lose it on my way home, I guess, which is understandable honestly. So yeah my mission was completed, I hadn’t messed it up, good job Simon you can go home now. I started walking back out of the forest, which was rather difficult because well, it was the middle of the night you know? And that’s when things started to go wrong. I got attacked by two Goblins, and I was so exhausted after looking for the thing the Mage wanted and walking around the forest, I couldn’t defend myself as well as I usually would which is why they could injure me as badly as they did. However, I did manage to beat them, but afterwards I felt so… weak. Usually, after I’m done with a mission, I’d walk until I can get a taxi or a bus or whatever I can find and then find a train station to go back to school, but this time I kind of… well, I… I collapsed on the ground and I couldn’t get up, there was definitely no way I could have left the woods, let alone walk back to the nearest town. I was starting to feel so scared and desperate because I could see myself dying in that bloody forest, and so I… You know how weird my magic is? Well I thought it might teleport me back here if I tried enough, so I started thinking about home and saying things with the word home in it until it worked. You know the rest.”

**…**

**Baz**

Anger makes my blood feel like fire.

He’s telling all of this like it’s  _ right _ , like there isn’t any fucking problem with the fact that the Mage leaves him all on his own in remote places for his own benefit. Like it’s okay for him to risk his life because the Mage wants to use him for things he could do himself.

It makes me sick that this scum is the closest thing to a parental figure Snow has. He deserves a guardian who actually cares for him. 

“Couldn’t you call the Mage? Couldn’t he help you?” I ask, even though I know that the answer is no.

Snow shakes his head, a sad look on his face. It makes me want to punch something. Someone. Someone in particular.

“You know that he isn’t fond of technology. He doesn’t let me have a phone, so I had no way to contact him.”

“That’s so dangerous. He should… Fuck, everyone knows your magic is messed up, and healing yourself when you’re severly injured is hard enough for experienced mages, he should know better than to let you all alone in the wild! You could bloody die!”

Showing Snow how angry I am probably isn’t a good idea, someone who hates him shouldn’t care that much about him not dying, but after healing him and caring for him the way I have this morning, I suppose this is just one more strange thing. 

“Well, I’ve survived so far,” Snow says, as if this was a legitimate reason to continue that bullshit. “I guess it doesn’t come to his mind that I could potentially  _ not  _ survive. Besides, usually everything goes well. I’d never been injured like I was last night before.”

“That’s not a reason. He should… He shouldn’t even use you like that in the first place, Snow. You’re 16, the only thing you should have to struggle with is school, but on top of that you already have all those things with the Humdrum. It’s insane that the Mage adds one more burden to your shoulders for his own selfish purposes.”

I see Snow tense.

“I… Let’s just stop talking about him, alright? We won’t agree on anything, and I don’t want to fight. I enjoy not fighting with you, I’d hate for us to start arguing because of that.”

_ I enjoy not fighting with you. _

Fuck, me too.

I wish things could be like this all the time.

But I also wish he would open his damn eyes and realize that the way the Mage treats him isn’t right.

But well…

I guess I can’t blame him too much considering the things  _ I  _ am willing to do not to disappoint or displease my father…

**…**

**Simon**

“Okay, then, let’s stop talking about it,” Baz says, eventually giving up. 

I push myself up on my elbows just enough to turn my head and give him a smile. It should be weird, smiling to Baz, but then he smiles back and I don’t care if it’s weird because it feels  _ right.  _


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Baz**

Snow’s stomach gurgles, which makes him blush up to the tip of his ears. He puts his hand over his stomach, glaring at it. “Shut up,” he mumbles.

He’s an idiot.

“Are you hungry? I can go get something in the kitchen.”

It’s way past lunchtime, and therefore, too late to go to the dining hall, and we’re not allowed to take food out of the room anyway. 

“Can you?” he asks, sounding skeptical. “The one time I tried to get food outside of lunch and dinner time, Cook Pritchard sent me away. Said I should just attend the meals like everyone else.”

Clearly, this is something that upsets him, more than being refused a snack should be. I want to ask why, but I don’t want to overstep.

“Cook Pritchard is a distant relative of mine. Besides, I’m a Pitch, and I used to be around a lot when… when my mother was still Headmistress, so the staff that was already working here back then loves me. She doesn’t say no when I ask for food. I can take whatever I want, I just have to make it myself, of course, so tell me what you want but please don’t ask for something that has to be cooked anywhere near a stove. I’m very good at making sandwiches, though.”

**…**

**Simon**

Is Baz really suggesting that he, Baz Pitch, is going to be making  _ my  _ food?

I’m less and less sure that this isn’t a parallel universe. 

**…**

**Baz**

Snow gives me a curious look, but quickly, his hunger takes over. 

“Yeah, sandwiches sound great,” he says with a small smile. “But… Uh… There’s actually something I’d like to eat…”

“I can’t make scones,” I say immediately, in case that’s what he has in mind.

I don’t know how to use an oven, I never know how long you’re supposed to cook something for, nor what temperature to set. It’s too confusing and there’s no logic -or at least not a logic that I understand- behind it. 

“I wasn’t going to ask for scones! No, it’s something really easy to make.”

Why does he look so embarrassed then?

I wave my hand, gesturing to him to go on.

“Well, pray tell.”

He doesn’t look at me while he explains.

“You see, it’s easy, you just take bread, spread butter on it…” Of course there would be butter. It’s a mystery to me how he can eat that much butter. “... and then add cocoa powder on top. And that’s it.”

It’s just that? 

“That doesn’t seem too difficult. It does seem like a strange snack though, I never had that.”

Snow laughs a tad nervously.

“It’s… sentimental for me, I guess,” he says, staring at the ceiling -I still haven’t allowed him to sit down-, his cheeks having taken a pink colour.

Sentimental? I swear if he asked me to make him something Wellbelove used to make him I’m going to throw the damn thing in his face.

“How so?” I ask calmly.

He squirms on his bed, and raises one of his hands to tuck it under his head.

“It’s silly but…” he starts, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “In the care homes, sometimes, at night, I go to the kitchen and I make that, because it’s quick and there’s always butter, bread and cocoa powder in the kitchen. I have to be discreet when I make and eat it because if one of the workers catches me I don’t get to have breakfast or lunch the next day. It’s thrilling. I never have as much fun in the care homes as when I’m in the kitchen with my heart beating super fast from the fear of being caught, eating that while sitting on the floor and glancing around to make sure no one is going to come in. It’s good memories. And it just tastes good in and of itself. So yeah, I think I’d like to have that, if you don’t mind.”

Is it the right time to introduce Snow to the concept of Proust’s madeleine?

No, he would probably just call me a nerd.

That’s a sweet story, though. Sad, but sweet. I’m glad Snow had at least one thing he sort of enjoyed, when he was in those care homes.

However I don’t like a particular part of his story…

“They wouldn’t let you eat if you took a snack?”

That sounds so cruel. I’ve never known food to be used as a punishment in my house. 

“No. If you want to steal, you pay for it, so yeah, when I sneak in the kitchen to take something outside of meals, I don’t get meals.”

Wait a minute…

Why is he talking about all of this in present tense? The Mage has taken him out of those care homes -that’s probably the only good thing that borderline fascist, off brand Robin Hood has ever done for Snow. 

I ask Snow that, because I’m really surprised and it doesn’t seem like the kind of thing that could ruin what we’re having right now.

His face becomes dark and sad and it makes me regret my question instantly.

I bite my tongue.

Snow lets out a heavy sigh, something that sounds pained and desperate.

“I still go to the care homes, Baz. Every summer.”

_ What the fuck? _

“But doesn’t the Mage…”

“The Mage,” Snow interrupts me, his voice a bit cold. “doesn’t want to be bothered with me during the holidays, so he sends me back to the care homes so that he doesn’t have to deal with me for two months when he could be doing much better things than babysitting me.”

**…**

**Simon**

It used to hurt me so much. It still does, honestly. The first summer, when he told me I was going back to the care homes and that I couldn’t stay with him, I burst into tears. I was sobbing and trembling for the entire drive, and I’m pretty sure the Mage cast a spell on me not to hear me after approximately 5 minutes of this. I was still crying when we got there. It was terribly humiliating. I was almost 12, I had no business crying like a baby like that, but I didn’t want him to abandon me.

I was terrified he’d never come back for me. That Watford, Penny, the magic, the good food, even  _ Baz _ , were things that were gone forever. 

That summer was probably the worst of my entire life. 

**…**

**Baz**

I feel all of this anger and hatred I have for the Mage grow in me again.

I can’t believe he can treat Simon like this.

That fucking—

“Please,” Simon says, his voice a little weak, showing me his hand in a way that means ‘stop’ “Don’t say anything. I don’t want to hear it. Just… Go make lunch. That’s what you were going to do right? I’m curious to see if you’re as good of a cook as you are a nurse.”

He tries to make his voice cheerful at the end, and I get the message. 

It’s okay.

I will keep my thoughts to myself, if Snow doesn’t want to hear them. But  _ fuck  _ do I have things to say about the Mage. 


	21. Chapter Twenty One

**Baz**

Snow looks at me like I’m some sort of god when I walk in the room with a tray full of sandwiches and two of those snacks he wanted.

He claps his hands excitedly, because he’s a child, as I put the tray down on his desk.

“Patience. You have to sit up first.”

“Oh, so I’m allowed to now?” he asks with a cheeky grin.

I haven’t let him sit up at all this morning. The only time when he wasn’t lying down was when he needed to go to the bathroom. 

“Yes you are, you insufferable idiot. But not all afternoon.”

“Yes dad,” he says, amusement in his voice as he pushes himself up.

I roll my eyes, shaking my head in despair, before I take the tray back and set it on his lap. 

“Thanks.”

Not even a suspicious glance?

I was expecting him to accuse me of trying to poison him. But no, it seems that he trusts me.

_ Why  _ does he trust me all of a sudden?

Well, I did save his life. I suppose it makes it more believable that I’m actually taking care of him and not plotting his murder. 

“You’re welcome.”

If it was Dev and Niall I’d joke about how he isn’t allowed to say it’s bad even if it is or I won’t feed him tonight but considering the things he told me about his life when he isn’t at Watford, I keep my mouth shut. I don’t want him to believe I would  _ actually  _ withhold food. 

It’s on that thought that I walk back to my bed, sitting against the wall to be facing Snow’s bed. When he notices my position, he shifts so that he’s resting his back against the opposite wall.

Now we’re in front of one another. 

He gives me a puzzled look.

“Are you not going to eat any of those?” he asks, pointing at the sandwiches.

Three of them, because Snow eats a lot. If I had made the food for myself, it would be one. Two for Niall and Dev. It seemed logical to make three for Snow.

“I’m not hungry.”

I am. But not enough. My stomach isn’t hurting yet. It’s alright. Surely I can go one more day.

“Maybe not but you must have used a lot of magic to heal me last night. It’s draining. You should eat a little or I’m going to be the one who has to look after you.”

I snort. “I’d like to see you try to tend to me.”

I don’t think Snow is capable of taking care of another human being. He’s barely able to take care of  _ himself. _

“Stop being a prick and come take a sandwich, Baz.”

He picks one up and hands it to me, even though I still haven’t moved in the slightest.

I sigh -I  _ have  _ to show Snow he’s annoying me- but I do get off my bed, walking towards Snow. Maybe I can sit on his bed and eat there…

It’s worth a try.

I climb on his bed, and I go lean against the wall, close to him but not close enough to touch.

He doesn’t push me away, simply shows the sandwiches to me again. 

I shake my head.

I made his sandwiches with ham, I can’t eat any of those. Pork is the worst, with my fangs. It’s worse when it’s cooked, but ham also makes them pop practically all the time. I’m lucky enough that Snow didn’t notice them before he collapsed, I can’t go and ruin it.

“I’d rather have one of those sweet things of yours, if you don’t mind. I’m not really feeling like eating salty food, right now.”

Making it look like a whim will make it believable. Snow is convinced I’m a spoiled brat. Maybe I am. Father did buy me a lot of toys to compensate for his lack of love and attention when I was a kid. 

“Oh, okay then,” Snow says, putting the sandwich back on his tray.

He takes one of the pieces of bread, and gives it to me.

“Here you go.”

He picks the other up as I analyze the food in my hand. I have eaten cocoa powder straight from the box before -and almost choked on it, but I was 6 alright?- but with butter and bread? I’m still not convinced that it tastes good. I don’t like the taste of butter at all, unless it’s melted on toast.

“Come on, just eat it, I swear it’s good.”

I glance at him when he speaks, and sees him bringing the bread to his mouth. He looks so excited. It’s endearing. 

Food hasn’t been something I was excited about in a while. 

He bites it, and lets out a pleased  _ moan _ .

Aleister fucking Crowley, he can’t do that to me. That sound is going to haunt me now…

It was such a lovely one…

_ No. _

A boy moaning isn’t lovely. There’s nothing I should find appealing about it.

“So? Is it as good as when you’re eating it in secret?” I ask, a strange rasp to my voice.

Fucking hell. 

“Yes but not in the same way,” Snow says very seriously. “At the care homes it tastes like adventure. This one, it tastes like…” His cheeks turn pink and he shuts his mouth.

I cock an eyebrow.

“It tastes like…?”

Why am I doing this to myself? I’m sure that whatever he says will do nasty things to my perverted heart.

“Affection,” Snow mumbles.

A normal person couldn’t have heard it, but of course, I can. Vampire.

As expected, the words make my heart flutter.

Yes, Simon, I have affection for you. More than affection, even.

Instead of saying anything close to that, I roll my eyes.

“You’re such a sap. I don’t have affection for you. I don’t want you to die on my watch, that’s all.”

He punches my arm.

“Don’t be a prick. You were being nice,” he says, his head falling back against the wall. “I liked it…”

He sighs.

Hesitantly, I move my free hand and rest it on his shoulder. It startles him, and his eyes snap back to me.

“Did you? Like it?”

My voice sounds vulnerable. Maybe too vulnerable. 

I’ve already shown too much of my heart to Simon Snow in the past 24 hours, I shouldn’t show him anymore, but I burn with the desire to.

Because I don’t like being someone he hates.

Because I don’t like only interacting with him to argue.

Because  _ I  _ like being nice to him.

He looks away again.

“Yeah,” he says, with an embarrassed smile. “You’re actually… kind of nice to be around when you’re not being mean. I… I’d like that not to be just a one day thing. I don’t want you to be mean again once you’ll be sure I’m not going to “die on your watch”. I know that we’re not friends and that we’ve never been friends and that we probably can’t be friends but I’d like it if we could not be at each other’s throats all the time, just like today. Do you think that would be possible?”

He turns eyes full of hope to me and I’m done for.

All those layers of ice I’ve built around myself, to protect myself, to keep him away with my coldness melt under his gaze. Years and years of pretending gone in a split second, all because of ordinary blue eyes.

“Are you suggesting a truce?”

He shrugs. “Yeah. I guess. If you want to call it that.”

I pretend to think about it. I can’t give away how much I crave a better relationship with him.

Eventually, I squeeze his shoulder.

“We can try, I suppose.”


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

**Simon**

Today was amazing.

Baz and I didn’t fight, we even had fun. He didn’t want me to exhaust myself, so he made me lie down for almost the entire day, but we chatted so it wasn’t as unbearable as it could have been. I took a nap an hour or so after lunch, and I just woke up, because of loud knocking on the door.

Baz swears when he sees I’ve opened my eyes. 

He gives me an apologetic look. “It’s Niall. Sorry he woke you up.”

I don’t even bother to ask how he can know it’s Niall before he opens the door. He probably smelled him or something. Vampire.

I shrug. “I would have woken up soon anyway,” I say, sleepiness slurring my words, as I notice that the sky is dark outside.

“Still,” he says, his voice colder than it has been all day long, his hand on the door handle.

He opens it, and I can indeed see Niall. 

Shit, does Baz sound annoyed that he is here because of the whole boyfriend situation? 

Which makes me think that I still don’t know if they  _ are  _ boyfriends or if Baz was telling the truth when he said they were just friends. 

**…**

**Baz**

“What do you want Niall?”

I make sure to open the door wide enough so that he sees that Snow is here and doesn’t say something that Snow  _ shouldn’t  _ hear.

He looks at me up and down, eyebrows raised in surprise. “You don’t look sick.”

“And yet, I am, which is why I didn’t come to class today.”

He knows it’s bullshit, I don’t get sick. Snow also knows it’s bullshit, but I’m sure he understands why I’d pretend to be sick. 

“Um, I thought so,” Niall says. He makes the effort to make it sound genuine. “I brought you my notes.” 

Of course he has. 

I take the few sheets of paper he hands me, thanking him. I really don’t need his notes, considering how low the level is at Watford, I could miss all of my classes for the entire year and still get good grades, but I appreciate the sentiment.

I know it’s not all, though. 

“Is there something else?” I ask to make him spit it out.

He leans his shoulder against the wall.

“There is, actually. Your girl, Eloise…”

I click my tongue. Crowley, not her. I was having a good day.

“Eliza,” I say automatically.

He knows it’s Eliza. I’ve corrected him dozens of times already. 

“Whatever. She’s waiting in front of the building. She wants to see you.”

Brilliant. 

I take a deep breath, that comes out in a long, heavy sigh. I nod, so that Niall knows I’m going to and that he can leave, and then I walk back in the room, turning to Snow. 

“I have to go downstairs for a moment. Are you going to die if you’re on your own?”

“A slow and painful death,” he answers, deadpan.

It makes me laugh through my nose. It’s an undignified sound and I hate that Snow heard it.

I hate it a little less when I see the small smile on his lips as he looks at me. 

“Good,” is the last thing I tell him before heading out.

**…**

Just as Niall said, Eliza is waiting for me in front of the door, rubbing her arms to keep warm.

“Baz!” she exclaims when she sees me. “Hey. Why weren’t you in class today?”

She has a sullen look on her face. 

I force a smile on my lips.

“I was feeling unwell, but I’m better now.” I’m close enough to, so I quickly peck her lips. Not quickly enough that lip gloss doesn’t stick to my lips. “I must have eaten something that made me sick.”

She hums.

I can’t help but think that Snow would have made a comment about the fact that I didn’t eat lunch or dinner yesterday, or breakfast this morning, and that therefore nothing could have made me sick. But of course Eliza wouldn’t have noticed. She doesn’t seem to really care whether or not I eat -which is fantastic, I’m tired of Niall and Dev’s gazes on me whenever I’m having a meal with them.

She holds out her hand, and I tangle our fingers. “Do you think you’re good enough to go to town with me tomorrow, like we said?” 

Merlin and Morgana, I had forgotten I had told her I’d take her to town. I was planning to go to a café with her, maybe a restaurant, walk through the village a bit, and then take her back to school and do some  _ stuff _ in an empty classroom. She’s dating me because she was to fuck me -and for the popularity-, I’m not a fool, I know it, I’m going to have to provide, even if the thought doesn’t really appeal to me.

Though maybe it won’t be as bad as I think. I can’t know until I try it…

“Yes, I’m good enough. Is 11 am in the parking lot alright for you?”

She smiles, in a way that tells me she knows perfectly well that my intentions aren’t pure. “Perfect.”

**…**

**Simon**

Baz comes back to the room with such despair on his face you’d think he’d just been told his entire family died.

That surprises me. He went downstairs to see his girlfriend, shouldn’t he look a bit happier?

Though I still don’t know what’s really up with her and Baz.

“What did your girlfriend want?” I ask, curiously.

He might tell me it’s none of my business, but it’s worth a try.

He pushes the door close, leaning against it for a second before getting a grip on himself. 

“She wanted to know why I missed class,” he answers as he walks back to his bed. 

He climbs on it, sitting against the wall like he has all the time we were talking. 

“She also reminded me that we’re going on a date tomorrow.” 

I feel my shoulders drop.

It’s stupid, it’s not like Baz owes me his presence, and he would certainly be having much more fun spending time with his girfriend than here with me, but it makes my heart clench for some reason.

“You’ll have to ask Bunce to come and babysit you,” he finishes.

“I… Erm… You… Penny can’t come here, she’s a girl” I stutter.

She has always been careful not to be seen when she came, there’s no way he knows. 

Baz gives me that look that makes me feel stupid.

“I’m not an idiot, Snow. The room reeks of her magic, sometimes, and you always have that guilty look on your face when it does. I don’t blame you, I bring Dev and Niall here sometimes. Though I must admit, I’m curious as to how Bunce  _ can  _ come here. But anyway, my point is, I won’t be here tomorrow so you should ask her to come look after you. Another day of bed rest would do you good.”


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

**Simon**

Baz has a date and I hate it.

He’s been insufferable since he woke up.

First off, he took at least half of his clothes out of his closet and laid them out on his bed, and then looked at them, moving shirts over pants, sweaters over shirt, for a solid half hour until he found an outfit that satisfied him. 

Then he went to put it on and decided that all things considered, he wasn’t satisfied, and started the whole process over again, with even more clothes from his closet. 

His little mumbles and sighs as he tries to find an outfit are driving me mad.

Why does he care so much? Honestly from where I am, the two jumpers he’s comparing are the exact same, and half those pants he can’t choose between are about the same colour. 

After fifteen more minutes of this, I snap.

“Just take a bloody shirt, it’s not that hard.”

He glares at me over his shoulder.

“All you ever wear is your uniform, of course you think it’s  _ not that hard _ ,” he says, snorting.

Well, that’s because I don’t own any clothes other than school issued ones…

I don’t say that. Baz knows it. I don’t think he was referring to that to be mean. He just seems stressed about the whole date thing, which is something, contrary to the clothes thing, that I can understand. Going on dates with Agatha made me sweat every time. I never knew what to do to make it a good date, not to bore her. People usually get bored when they’re alone with me.

Baz doesn’t.

But Baz has only been alone with me for a day. He’d get bored too, after some time, for sure. Even Penny gets bored, and she’s the person who loves me the most.

“I still think it’s not that big of a deal. You’ll look good whatever you wear.”

Baz even manages to look good in a sweaty football shirt and those ridiculous football shorts he wears for his matches.

Baz looks  _ particularly  _ good in a sweaty football shirt and those ridiculous football shorts he wears for his matches. 

Once Penny said, jokingly, that the only reason she wasn’t  _ too  _ annoyed about me forcing her to go to the football matches with me is because she can check out the players’ arses and honestly she might have been onto something…

Not that I watch the players’ arses. The only person I watch is Baz and I don’t look at his butt. I might have looked at his abs once or twice but that’s only because he uses the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face, it’s not like I  _ mean  _ to look, it’s just that they’re  _ right there  _ when he lifts his shirt.

Baz has great abs -well, he did at the beginning of last year at least. Motherfucker. I never really had abs. I don’t know if it’s the butter or because my weight fluctuates so much or because I don’t really exercise anymore now that I’ve mastered using my sword, but I don’t have abs and Baz does and it’s unfair.

He’s so insufferably  _ perfect. _

Baz completely turns around to look at me, eyebrows shooting up.

“Did you just compliment me? My  _ appearance _ ?”

He says it like it’s crazy that I could think he looks good. Like he doesn’t know that he’s the most good looking bloke at school. The most good looking  _ person _ at school, really. 

“Yeah,” I say, shrugging. His eyebrows are so high they might fly off his face. “Ugh, people like you are the worst. You know you’re handsome, don’t act so surprised. It’s not like I don’t know that you’re a vain arsehole.”

He snort.

“Whatever. You’re making me lose precious time.”

“You would lose less  _ precious time _ if you would just pick a fucking shirt!”

**…**

More than half an hour later, after spending forever in the bathroom  _ -insufferable- _ , he eventually leaves.

To go on a date with his girlfriend.

I can’t help but think that she’s lucky…

**…**

**Baz**

I’m barely out of my room, and I already want to go back. Spending the day with Snow sounds insanely more appealing than spending it with Eliza…

But that’s the whole point, right? To make that change. To make spending the day with Eliza  _ more  _ appealing than spending it with him, or with any boy.

**…**

**Simon**

… Wait.

**…**

**Baz**

If her smile when we talked about the date didn’t give out her intention to have sex, her clothes would have.

She put on what I suppose is an outfit that a straight man would like seeing her in. The v-neck of her black skin tight dress goes rather low, exposing her cleavage, and the dress is cut short showing long legs covered in thighs, also black. She’s highlighting her curves, and that’s what people who are attracted to girls like looking at, right? Arse. Tits. 

I can understand enjoying looking at arses, though Eliza’s is nothing like what  _ I  _ like looking at. Her hips are much too wide, her butt not firm enough.

But maybe… 

Maybe it’s not as bad as it seems. 

**…**

**Simon**

No…

That can’t be…

It doesn’t make any sense…

I’m not… 

I can’t…

_ I hate him. _

Or do I?

**…**

**Baz**

Maybe it won’t be as bad as it seems.

I can’t know if I truly dislike it if I don’t try it. 

Eliza presses our mouths together the moment I’m done casting a spell to lock the door. 

I try to match her enthusiasm, walking until the back of her thighs meets the edge of a table. She hops on it, wrapping her thighs around me as she slips me the tongue.

We kiss, and I try focusing on that. Kissing is alright. She put lipstick on today, not lip gloss, so it’s not as strange as usual. It’s still not half as good as how kissing Niall felt, but it could be wor...

Her fingers are undoing my belt.

She breaks the kiss, glancing at me with an intense look in her eyes. “I want you,” she says as she opens the button of my jeans.

“Want you too,” I whisper under my breath, blindly looking for the zipper of her dress.

Maybe if I say it it’ll become true.

She tugs my fly down, sliding her fingers under my waistband.

I tense and she freezes, her hand wrapped around my soft cock. 

“Your hand is warm, it surprised me,” I say, making my voice as steady as I can. 

I give her an encouraging smile, pulling her zipper down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well.


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry

**Baz**

Eliza is stroking me and my dick won’t get hard.

I can’t have that. She can’t think I don’t want her, she can’t break up. I don’t want to go through the flirting again, not with a girl.

I look down at her exposed chest, to pretend that  _ this  _ is what is arousing me, while letting my mind fill with pictures and memories of sensations that I know work for me.

I think about the pale expanse of Snow’s back in the night, covered in moles that make my heart flutter and scars that make it clench. I think about the freckles on his broad shoulders, that really become visible around the end of the school year, when it gets sunny outside. I think about those shoulders, how they move, about his strong arms and how they flex.

I think about Niall’s body pressed up against mine, about his thigh against my crotch and the soft sounds he made when I kissed him down his spine. About how  _ his _ shoulders looked when he pushed the pillow against his face, muffling those sounds.

I imagine that the hand around my cock is his, and it makes it easier. I can’t imagine it’s Snow’s, Eliza’s hands are too soft, not calloused by swordsmanship, but Niall’s hands are more delicate than Snow’s. Long, thin fingers. Piano hands. 

They do wonders on bare skin… 

He’d probably hate me if he knew I thought about him while trying to get hard to fuck Eliza, but he doesn’t have to know. What happens in my disturbed mind stays within my disturbed mind. 

Once I’m hard enough for her, Eliza stops wanking me.

I get the hint, and hook my fingers under the hem of her panties with slightly shaky fingers. It’s the last piece of clothes she has on and I absolutely don’t want it gone, but this is a necessary evil. 

She lifts her hips, and I pull her underwear down, until it’s on the floor.

As I did that, she had cast a  **Better safe than sorry** , and then a  **Slippery when wet** on her hand and had started jerking me off again to spread the lube on my cock.

I didn’t know straight people used lube. 

She shifts closer to the edge of the desk, spreading her legs wider and giving me a seductive smile. 

I step closer to her, taking a deep breath as I line myself up with her and slide my hands under her thighs. 

She frowns.

“You’ve done this before, right?”

I smile as confidently as I can. “Yes, of course,” I answer.

And I have.

But I was the one spreading my legs to take a bloke’s cock.

“You look nervous,” she says, giggling softly.

“Well, I’ve done it before, but never with you.”

She raises her hand, stroking my cheek. “It’s okay. Just relax.”

It’s more tender than any gesture she has had for me so far, and it makes it all seem a little bit less awful.

I take another breath, and then I push in.

**…**

**Simon**

Should I tell Penny about this?

I tell Penny everything. It’d be weird  _ not  _ to tell her something. But at the same time… She would probably think I’ve gone mad.

I keep ranting about how annoying Baz is, it doesn’t make sense for me to… to…

And I’m  _ straight _ . 

Though I guess that if I wasn’t, Baz could definitely be someone I’d be attracted to. He’s fit. So fucking fit.

**…**

**Baz**

It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,  _ it’s okay _ . 

This is what men enjoy. So fucking  _ enjoy it _ . There’s no other way. You won’t keep a girl long enough to marry her if you don’t fuck her regularly  _ before  _ marrying her. After the wedding you could stop.

No.

Suck it up, and learn to like this. 

It’s just  _ sex.  _ It’s not so different from what sticking your dick up someone’s arse would be. You have no fucking reason not to like it.

_ This is what men enjoy. _

**…**

**Simon**

But maybe…

Well, I wasn’t attracted to Agatha. And Agatha is  _ very  _ pretty. So maybe there was a reason for that. Maybe…

Maybe it’s because I’m attracted to someone else.

The thought makes me blush. 

No, why would I be attracted to him? He’s  _ Baz.  _ He’s fit but that doesn’t mean I’m attracted to him in, like, a ‘I want to fuck you’ way. I’m sure Penny thinks Baz is fit too -she has eyes- but that doesn’t mean she’d want to fuck him.

“Pen?” I ask, focusing back on the world outside of my head.

She looks up from her book. Since I was pretty much just lying there, starting at the ceiling, she started reading one of Baz’s books -he won’t be happy if he finds out. “Yes?”

“Do you think Baz is fit?”

**…**

**Penny**

Did he finally have some sort of epiphany?

**…**

**Baz**

I know deep in my core that the sensation isn’t right, but it’s still friction on my cock, so if I close my eyes, I might be able to come quickly. To end this soon.

The sounds Eliza makes don’t help.

It’s obvious that they’re fake. I’ve never fucked someone, and I’m not exactly putting any effort into doing it right, there’s no way it feels as good as her high pitched moans and ‘yes’s make it seem.

I wish she’d just  _ shut up.  _ Or only make the sounds that she can’t hold back, but not do whatever it is that she’s doing now.

Is this supposed to be arousing?

Because it’s fucking  _ not. _

Nothing about this is. 

But  _ it’s okay _ . The physical sensations, they’re still here. I can get off on the stimulation, even if the thought that it’s a  _ woman _ I’m thrusting into makes me vaguely nauseous.

_ No. _

_ It’s okay. _

_ This is what men enjoy. _

_ So suck it up. _

Think about something else.

And.

Suck.

It.

Up.

**…**

**Simon**

“Excuse me?”

“Baz. Baz Pitch. My roommate. Dark hair, about 6’2”, probably a vampire…”

“I know who Baz is,” she interrupts me, rolling her eyes. She closes the book, keeping her index finger inside it not to lose her page. “I’m wondering  _ why  _ in Merlin’s name you’re asking that.”

I shrug.

“It’s just a question.”

For a second, she looks at me with annoyance in her eyes, but then she answers, “Well then. No, I don’t think he is.”

My eyes go a little wide.

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. He has a pretty face, I won’t deny that, but he isn’t my type  _ at all _ . There are much hotter blokes at school, if you ask me.”

I shake my head, pushing myself up into a sitting position. “That’s just objectively not true. Baz is… He’s… Have you  _ looked  _ at him?” I say, my voice showing my absolute shock at Penny’s answer.

She must be taking the piss. How could she think  _ anyone  _ at this school is even  _ half  _ as fit as Baz.

She laughs, something short and breathy.

“Yes Si, I have, and I stand by what I said.”

**…**

**Penny**

He shakes his head again. “Impossible.”

He’s the one who’s impossible. 

Honestly if he doesn’t figure out that he’s attracted to Baz  _ soon,  _ there’s really no hope for him anymore.

**…**

**Baz**

When I come, I bite her shoulder not to moan another name.

And I disgust myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyy I know begging for comments is annoying vut remind that they’re always more than appreciated. I’ve been feeling a bit discouraged only getting two comments sometimes 😅


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

**Baz**

Please be here, please be here, please be here. 

**…**

**Dev**

Someone knocks on the door.

Baz, it must be Baz, he’s the only one who ever visits us.

He must be bored. He crashes here when he gets tired of avoiding Snow or breathing the same air as him.

It’s Baz.

But I don’t think he came because he was bored.

He looks a mess.

Some of his hair is falling on his face, his shirt is half untucked and I’m pretty sure his fly isn’t even pulled all the way up. 

I’ve never seen him like this, not even when we stole weed and alcohol from his aunt and he got completely wasted. 

“Baz?”

“Is Niall here?” he asks immediately. 

His voice sounds strange, like he’s about to cry. 

“No, he’s in town with Keris.”

His shoulders drop. 

“Fuck. Do you know when he’s coming back?”

“He said he’d be back for dinner. Why? What’s wrong?”

There’s clearly a problem. He looks seconds away from falling apart. 

He shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”

Honestly, someday I’m going to think he doesn’t trust me at all. He never tells me  _ anything _ . Not anything serious, at least. Not anything that has to do with feelings. It’s always, always,  _ always  _ Niall. Sure, I know I’m not as good with that shit as he is, but still. 

I roll my eyes, reaching out to grab his arm. Before he can protest, I pull him inside the room, closing the door behind us. He looks too miserable, I’m not letting him alone in the wild like this. He does stupid shit when he’s alone and miserable.

“Baz,” I say, holding both of his arms now. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s… You wouldn’t… I have to tell  _ Niall. _ ”

“You can tell me,” I insist. “Niall isn’t the only one who cares. You can tell me things sometimes.”

I try not to sound bitter, but I have to admit, it’s kind of annoying that he hides so many things from me. Our relationship seems so shallow compared to the one he has with Niall. He’s okay with me being with him when he has fun or complains about little things, but whenever he’s serious, whenever he’s sad or in distress, suddenly I’m out of the picture.

“It’s silly sentimental bullshit,” he says, his voice starting to tremble. Fuck. “You don’t care about that.”

“I do. Shit Baz, if it puts you in that state of course I do, you fucking cunt.”

His eyes are filling with tears. Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck _ .

I rub his arms. That seems like the kind of thing Niall would do. I know that when I’m freaking out, he’s always rubbing circles on my back or hand or whatever part of my body he’s touching.

He shakes his head.

“You won’t understand.”

**…**

**Baz**

Because he doesn’t know. I’m such a fucking coward, I haven’t told him… 

There are so many things I haven’t told him.

“Try me,” he says.

He sounds so determined.

I didn’t think Dev cared like that.

He’s my cousin, my oldest friend, I know that he loves me, but I didn’t think he loved me enough to want to hear about my silly problems. Dev isn’t good with feelings.

“Come on, Baz, talk to me,” he continues, his voice a little bit softer.

I feel the tears that are burning my eyes pass the barrier of my eyes, rolling down my cheeks.

He wants to know. He cares. 

I can tell him. 

But…

I can’t just tell him I didn’t like fucking Eliza, he wouldn’t understand if he doesn’t know...

I look away.

I can’t look at him when I… when I say…

“I’m gay.”

**…**

**Dev**

Well.

I can’t say I was expecting to hear that now. 

I can’t say it’s  _ completely  _ unexpected either. I know stereotypes are bad and all that, but honestly, he’s a bit of a cliché with his long hair, and how much he cares about his clothes, and his mannerism. 

I’m not sure how to react though.

You’d think that after Niall came out to me twice, I’d know what to do, but no. Baz isn’t Niall. Niall just wanted me to shrug it off like it’s nothing when he said he was gay. Maybe Baz wants more than that. 

I give him a smile that probably looks awkward as fuck.

I’m awkward as fuck.

“Okay. Thanks for telling me.”

Merlin, that sounds so wrong. I’m such a bloody mess. 

He laughs nervously. 

“But Baz… What about that girl you’re dating then?”

His laugh dies in his throat, and more tears flow. 

Fuck why do I only say the wrong things?

“That’s why I came, actually,” he says, wriggling his arms to free himself of my grip and then hug himself. If he was with Niall, I’m pretty sure he would have hugged  _ him  _ but Baz and I don’t hug.

Fuck it.

I close my arms around him, and  _ I  _ hug  _ him _ .

He startles, but within seconds of my uncomfortable embrace, his body sags against mine, his tears wetting my shirt at the shoulder. 

I want to know what’s wrong with him, but I’m not so sure I can deal with it alone… I don’t know how to be here for Baz properly. All I have are my awkward attempts, and if he’s crying like that… maybe he really needs someone who  _ knows  _ him.

“Do you want me to call Niall? He could always go back to town tomorrow, they’re not going to shops just hanging out away from school. It can be done on a Sunday.”

He shakes his head vigorously. “Please.”

I pat his back.

“Okay. I’m going to.”

I step back until I can feel my bed, and I rotate until I can make Baz sit on it. 

His cheeks are full of tears, It’s terrifying. I haven’t seen Baz cry such sorrowful tears since we were little kids.

Merlin, what happened to him?

**…**

It takes Niall half an hour to come back, which both feels like it has been an eternity and is objectively a really short amount of time to come all the way from the town. 

Baz has stopped crying in the meantime, now he’s biting at the skin around his nails nervously instead, which maybe isn’t better but at least it scares me less.

Niall doesn’t even have time to sit properly on the bed with us that he’s already pulling Baz into a hug.

See? He knows what to do. He’s good at this.

“What happened?” he asks calmly, probably so that Baz won’t get worked up.

**…**

**Niall**

I can feel Dev’s burning gaze on me as I stroke Baz’s hair. Usually, to have him looking at me like that, it would make me blush. I always act silly around Dev. But not now. Now is too serious for this.

Baz was so upset he cried in front of Dev.

Baz was so upset he freaked Dev out enough for him to call me, asking me to come back immediately.

“I fucked Eliza,” Baz answers bluntly, his voice unsteady.

That explains it.

“It was awful,” he continues. “Fuck, I hated it. I didn’t… I thought I’d be okay, I mean, it’s not  _ that  _ different from what fucking a boy must be like but… But… it was still so… It felt  _ wrong  _ because I  _ knew  _ she was a girl and I just… It… I think even if I had fucked her in the arse it’d have been wrong and I  _ hate it _ . I hate that it felt wrong, I hate that I didn’t like it. I hate that I’m… That I’m not…” 

He chokes on his words. He’s crying again.

I shush him, letting him cuddle up to me a bit more as he breathes in and out deeply.

His voice is so weak and muffled by my shoulder that I almost don’t hear him when he speaks.

“I just want to be normal.”


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

**Baz**

Niall and Dev won’t let me sleep in their room, and to be completely honest, I want to be with Snow -while fearing it at the same time, which is rather confusing- so eventually, long after the sky went dark, and after a quick trip to the Catacombs, I climb up the stairs to the top of Mummers, hoping that Bunce is gone. 

It’s so late, she  _ should  _ have gone back to her own dorm, but Simon Snow and Penelope Bunce are strange people. 

She’s gone, I notice with relief when I open the door.

As for Snow, he’s sitting on his bed, bent over something. I scrunch my nose at his position. Crowley, his poor back. He has horrible posture. 

I stop myself before I can start fantasizing about massaging his back to rid it of any soreness or tension.

I look more closely and notice that he has… coloured pencils -?- besides him.

I clear my throat, since  _ apparently  _ he hasn’t noticed me come in. He startles, and looks up at me.

“Hey. It’s late.”

“I was with Dev and Niall,” I explain as I crouch to untie my shoes.

I don’t know why I’m telling him this. I don’t owe him an explanation on what I do.

“Oh. Okay. Did you have fun?”

I think about Eliza’s thighs around me and about the shoulder of both Dev’s and Niall’s shirts made wet by tears as I give Snow a small smile. “Yes.” I stand back up, taking my coat off. “And you?”

He shrugs, and that’s it. Then he looks back to the paper on his lap, and takes one of the coloured pencils.

Of all the hobbies Snow could have found to fight boredom while he was -forcefully, by me- bedridden, colouring wasn’t at the top of my list. He has no patience and can barely  _ write  _ properly -his handwriting is a disaster. 

But it doesn’t matter, I think as I head to the bathroom.

It’s still better than swinging his sword at enemies and risking his life. 

**…**

**Simon**

He goes directly into the bathroom. Only a minute or two later, I hear the water running.

I kind of wish he had stayed longer, we barely saw each other today, and somehow, that bothers me. I  _ really  _ enjoyed yesterday. Talking with him. Laughing with him. Catching a glimpse of a side of him I never thought even existed until I saw it for myself.

I enjoyed it… But I didn’t enjoy what it did to me.

I can’t stop thinking about him.

More even than before.

Which is  _ exactly _ what I don’t like about this.

Why do I think about Baz so much in general? Why am I thinking about him so much  _ now _ ?

I may have an idea, but…

No, me thinking about  _ one  _ boy doesn’t make me…

Or does it?

I mean, when I was with Agatha… I felt nothing when she touched me, or when I touched her and Agatha is a  _ very  _ beautiful girl.

Would I feel something if  _ Baz  _ touched me?

I blush up to the roots of my hair as I bury my face in my hands, hiding myself in embarrassment even though no one is watching me, and no one can hear my thoughts.

_ What the fuck Simon. _

I shouldn’t… It’s not right to think about Baz like that. It’s not right to think about  _ anyone  _ like that. 

Even when I was with Aggie, I never thought about her when I needed a wank. It felt like soiling her. I didn’t want to soil her. 

I don’t want to soil Baz.

But…

The thought of him touching me is much harder to ignore than thoughts of Agatha.

**…**

**Baz**

I let the hot water run down my body, washing away the soap, warming me up, and undoing the bundles of nerves I’ve felt in my entire body since Eliza hopped on a table with me between her legs. 

That was so fucking terrible.

Even my first time felt better than this, and it’s not a memory I hold particularly dear.

I sigh, rubbing my face.

I’ve felt down for long enough today. I cried all the tears I had and said all the things I could. I’m not going to make myself sad again.

Simon Snow is on the other side of the door. When I leave the bathroom, I’ll see him. Probably talk to him. Maybe he’ll even smile at me, and I could fall asleep with my mind full of him and not her.

I hold onto that thought as I turn off the water.

It doesn’t matter if I can’t love him in public. It doesn’t matter that I’ll only ever be able to have Eliza, or any other girl.

Because I can still love him. In secret.

I still get to have him. In my head.

**…**

He rushes into the bathroom before I’m even completely out of it, bumping into my shoulder.

Well.

I won’t look at him, then. Not for a few minutes. 

It’s alright.

I’ve memorized the important things.

Memorized the shade of his eyes. Boring, unremarkable blue.

The location of his moles. He has one on his cheekbone that I ache to kiss. 

The radiance of his smile. A smile I’ve earned the right to see directed at me.

The look of his curls. A mess I wish to comb through with my fingers.

The sound of his voice. Saying my name, without anger or irritation.

_ Baz, Baz, Baz.  _

**…**

**Simon**

This is wrong.

This is  _ so  _ wrong.

He’d fucking murder me if he knew. 

But I couldn’t stop my thoughts and now… 

Now I’m hard and I feel a burning shame overwhelm me as I pull down my trousers - _ Baz’s  _ trousers for fuck’s sake- and pants.

It’s not okay to think about Baz… about it being Baz’s hand…

I get even harder. 

It’s not okay to think about Baz,

It’s.

_ Not.  _

Okay.

To.

Think.

About.

_ Baz _ .

Baz…

_ Baz, Baz, Baz.  _


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

**Simon**

I don’t want to go back to the room. I don’t want to see Baz. No, I don’t want Baz to see _me._

For the most part because I thought about him while I was jerking off which is _so_ gross and not okay at all, but also because, well, even if I turned the water on and bit my hand to try and prevent any sound from reaching him, I know he has enhanced hearing _-vampire-_ so he may even have _heard_ me wank which is positively the worst thing that could happen to me. There are some lines that just shouldn’t be crossed, you know? We’ve been roommates for 5 years and I’ve always, always, _always_ made sure he wasn’t here and wasn’t going to suddenly barge in when I wanked. He must have done the same because I never caught him.

And that was a fucking great situation. 

Blissful ignorance. 

Fuck I hope I didn’t ruin that.

I mean, if he heard me, he could have cast a spell to block the sounds or leave the room, but for that he would still have had to hear me in the first place which is probably the last thing he wants. 

I knock my head against the wall. 

Jesus Christ, why did I have to wank. Cold water would have done just fine. I hate myself.

**…**

**Baz**

Snow avoids my gaze when he walks to his bed.

I think I know why, but I can’t be completely sure, and I won’t taunt him about it because I don’t want to risk making him regret our little truce by humiliating him. 

Besides, I’m not sure I could joke about Snow having a wank without needing one myself. Just the sight of his erection in my pyjama bottoms almost ended me. 

I tried not to think about it, a rather difficult exercise that I only succeeded at because I let my mind be carried away by disgustingly romantic thoughts about other parts of his body, but he’s making it almost impossible not to think about it with his sheepish attitude.

He wouldn’t look so ashamed if he had gone to the bathroom to shower, like the water running would indicate.

Besides, if he had showered, he wouldn’t be wearing the same pyjamas as before. Not that Snow isn’t a caveman who would put sweaty pyjamas back on after a shower, but they’re made of silk, they would cling to his body more than that if his skin was still a little damp from his shower.

I clear my throat.

“What did Bunce and you get up to today?” I ask, in an attempt to keep both of our minds off what we’re thinking about. 

**…**

**Simon**

I don’t think he truly cares but that’s a distraction and I’d take any distraction right now. 

**…**

**Baz**

He shrugs.

“Not much. Mostly we chatted, but she also took some time to do homework because that’s what she does, and also she gave me those cool colouring things,” he says with some excitement in his voice as he shows off an adult colouring book. He’s such a moron. He’s adorable. “It was hers but when I told her I was getting bored out of my mind because you’re mean and cruel and you won’t let me do anything except stay in bed…” I roll my eyes. “... She gave it to me! I have something to do now, isn’t that nice?”

“Couldn’t you do your homework instead?” I say with a teasing smirk. “I’m sure that’d keep you more busy than a colouring book.”

He glares at me. 

“I sent a note to the Mage to tell him what happened with the Goblins and that I felt _terribly weak_ and that I would really appreciate it if he could let me stay in bed to rest next week. He said yes because he doesn’t really give a shit about my grades anyway, so I still have a week to do schoolwork,” Snow answers, sounding very proud of his little scheme, before sticking his tongue out. 

He’s a child.

“One whole week without going to class? But who’s going to look after you to make sure you don’t do something dumb and die?” I ask, filling my voice with exaggerated fake worry. 

He throws something at me. I duck my head fast enough that it will hit the wall instead of me, and I see what it is. An eraser. That would have hurt if it had hit my face.

“I can look after myself,” he groans. “Besides, my nurse is too big of a nerd to miss classes for me.”

**…**

**Simon**

That’s not even true. He missed the whole day yesterday to stay with me.

“If you call me your nurse one more time I’ll hex you,” Baz says, throwing my eraser back to me. 

“You didn’t say anything about me calling you a nerd,” I say, amusement in my voice.

He _is_ a nerd.

He glares at me, and slowly, very slowly, reaches for his wand, I throw my hands up in surrender. That bastard _would_ hex me. 

He cast a **Cat got your tongue** on me once because I was annoying him. I hated absolutely every second I spent under the spell. I don’t want that to happen again.

“Ok, ok, I’ll stop.”

He gives me a satisfied smile. “Good.”

**…**

I can’t sleep.

I can’t stop thinking about… all the things that hit me like a bloody train recently.

I’m thinking about it so much, I have a list in my head.

  * **I don’t hate Baz had much as I thought**



I actually kind of like him when he’s not being mean. He’s funny when his biting words aren’t meant to hurt.

  * **Baz doesn’t hate me as much as I thought**



He healed me when I came back from mission when he could very well have let me die, and he’s been so nice ever since. 

  * **Baz and I are on a truce**



It’s only been two days, but we haven’t fought, and we both want to go on like this. It’s so much better to chat with him than to fight. The air is so much more breathable in the room.

  * **Baz is _really_ fit...**



Which I already knew, but I seem to have particularly paid attention to it recently 

  * **…and it does things to me…**



Unspeakable things. 

That bastard got me more worked up just being an image in my mind than Agatha ever did with her hand shoved in my pants

  * **…and maybe that means something about myself**



I’ve never thought I could not be straight, honestly, but, well, I don’t think straight blokes get hard thinking about other blokes, right?

**…**

He isn’t sleeping either.

I keep tossing and turning, trying to make my brain shut up, and I’ve heard him sigh once or twice when I moved a lot, making my stupid bed creak. 

Maybe… Maybe I could…

“Baz?” I ask hesitantly.

He lets out a sound between humming and groaning.

“Some people are trying to sleep here,” he mumbles. 

“Sorry. Can I still ask you something?”

Another groan.

“Go on.”

“You’re gay, right?”

**…**

**Baz**

Crowley, not _again._


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

**Simon**

“I’m not gay,” Baz says flatly. “Go to sleep Snow.”

“No, Baz, please listen…”

“Go to sleep,” he says again, his voice angrier. “I’m not gay. I have a girlfriend and you know it.  _ Shut up  _ about me being gay.”

Why does he sound so offended about it? 

Honestly if he wasn’t friend with the  _ one  _ person at school who’s openly gay, I’d think he was homophobic.

“It’s not…” I try, but he interrupts me once more.

“Do I have to spell you mute for you to shut up? It’s late and I want to sleep. Leave me the fuck alone.”

I wish he’d stop threatening to cast spells on me when he’s annoyed with me. I know that he would do it, so it makes him win and I hate that.

Besides, I wanted to have a  _ serious  _ conversation with him, I’m not asking if he’s gay just to taunt him. I want…

I need  _ help _ .

And if he was gay, he could maybe help me.

But he doesn’t want to listen to me.

I sigh, and let my head fall back on my pillow.

Alright then.

I guess I’ll try to figure this out on my own…

**…**

**Baz**

Why is he so insistent? 

What good would it do to him if I admitted I was gay? It’s not his problem. He already  _ knows,  _ why does he want me to fucking  _ say  _ it? 

He said in his letter that he didn’t care if I was gay but clearly he  _ does  _ care with how much he brings it up.

I hate this.

**…**

**Simon**

_ How  _ do people even figure this out?

God, I wish I had a phone or something to go on the internet. Surely someone somewhere must give advice for people like me who are confused?

Is it confusing because I’m  _ not  _ gay and just having crazy ideas, or is it confusing because I  _ am  _ gay but don’t know what it entails?

I turn around, pushing my head in my pillow.

Fuck, I hate this.

**…**

Exhaustion gets the best of me, and I eventually fall asleep. When I wake up, it’s because Baz is being loud.

Well, loud for Baz, which is actually not a lot of a noise, usually he moves like he’s floating, practically not making any sound. Natural grace, or vampire agility, I don’t know, but either way it’s just another way Baz is better than me so I hate it. I can barely walk without tripping on my own foot. 

I rub the sleep out of my eyes, yawning. 

When my eyes aren’t so hazy anymore, they search for Baz and…

_ Fuck  _ he’s wearing his football kit. Goddammit. It’s too early for this.

“Why’re you wearing that?” I ask, my voice a bit slow.

I’m  _ barely  _ awake, I shouldn’t have to see him looking like  _ this  _ already.

He cocks an eyebrow, eyeing me very judgmentally from where he’s crouched, busy lacing his shoes. 

“Because I have a match?” he answers, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Well, I guess it is. The only times when he changes here and not in the changing rooms is for his matches. I guess it’s because he wants some time for himself before the match to relax, instead of being in a loud changing room full of his teammates. I couldn’t blame him. Half of them are brainless brutes, I wouldn’t want to be around them any more than necessary, and I have much more patience with people in general than Baz does. 

“Oh. Okay,” I say, pushing myself up before the cozy heat of my covers can convince me to stay here and sleep some more instead of going to the match.

I feel Baz’s gaze on me as I walk towards my closet. When I open it, and take a uniform out, he says, “What in Merlin’s name are you doing?”

I push the door of my closet enough to see him. He’s not crouching anymore, but standing by the door, looking skeptical. 

“Taking clothes to get dressed up,” I answer in a tone similar to his when he said he had a match.

“But  _ why  _ are you going dressed up? Are my pyjamas too comfortable? Do you miss restricting clothes?”

“No, you prick. I’m going to your match, I can’t stay in my pyjamas.”

He hums disapprovingly.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on bed rest? You shouldn’t go to the match,” he says as he heads towards the bathroom -probably because he knows I was going to go there to put my clothes on and he wants to be a nuisance.

“My mission was three days ago, I’m doing well enough to go freeze my arse off on the bleachers,” I say, rolling my eyes.

I also walk to the bathroom, and once I get there, I show him the door. “Get out I have to get dressed.

“No, I’m busy,” is all he answers, because he’s annoying like that.

He doesn’t  _ look  _ busy, but then, as I’m about to complain again, he takes his hairbrush and keeps looking through the drawer, probably to find a hair tie.

Ah. So I guess he does have something to do in the bathroom.

He confirms that by adding, “I have to tie my hair up before I leave.”

That makes sense.

But I have to change and if I do it in the room he’ll just walk in on me changing, so really, there’s no point.

I glance at him in the mirror, taking a second to look at his face while  _ he  _ isn’t looking, and then I promptly take my shirt off.

He’s around blokes when they’re changing each week for practice. He can handle it.

**…**

**Baz**

I almost slam the drawer close on my hand when I hear Snow’s shirt being discarded on the floor. My eyes shoot up, and in the mirror I see him, standing there behind me, his chest bare. 

Aleister fucking Crowley.

I’ve never seen his chest except in the dark. Well, I’ve never  _ looked  _ at his chest except in the dark. I’ve seen it when I healed him, but I wasn’t looking at him in  _ that  _ way back then.

But fuck does it look glorious.

His skin is a little bit paler than usual because despite what he says, he hasn’t fully recovered yet, but it still doesn’t look grey and sickly like mine. He has freckles and mole everywhere, just like on his back. There’s a mole only a few millimeters from his left nipple. It’s just as tempting as the one he has under his eye.

And his  _ stature _ . 

He isn’t muscled in a way that gives him abs, but you can tell that he has muscles. I’m sure his torso would be firm if I touched it...

And Merlin and Morgana, his  _ shoulders _ . They look so much better from the front than they do from the back when he’s lying down. I could write poems about Snow’s shoulders. They’re a work of art.

That sword of his really did one thing right, and it’s cause him to have shoulders like those.

I see movement, and my eyes follow it…

He’s hooking his fingers under the waistband of his trousers. 

He isn’t going to...

My eyes go up immediately in fear that he might actually pull his trousers down right here, right now, and…

And they meet his.

My cheeks burn, pink blooming on them.

He caught me staring.

He gives me a cheeky smile.

“Weren’t you going to tie your hair up?”


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine

**Simon**

“Weren’t you going to tie your hair up?”

“I was,” he says immediately, his voice having a ring to it that I’ve never heard. “I simply can’t find a tie.”

My lips quirk up more. Of course.

He glares at me in the mirror before opening the cabinet on the wall over the mirror. He’s tall but not tall enough that he can reach inside of it without getting on his tiptoes and raising his arms.

It makes his shirt ride up, exposing a silver of pale skin just over his waistband.

Only a second later, though, that little bit of skin is gone as Baz gets back on his feet. 

He gives me a smirk in the mirror.

“Weren’t you going to change?”

_ Fuck off _ . 

I won’t tell him that. He wins if I tell him that, and Baz wins much too often.

I fiddle with the waistband of  _ my  _ trousers -well, his really, but you get the point- his eyes flickering down before he can control himself.

I smile to him. 

“Are you going to watch me?”

I pull my trousers down a little, just enough for the elastic of my pants to show, and Baz’s cheeks go pink, which I think is the equivalent of a full face blush for him.

Great.

Instead of answering, he stares at himself in the mirror, grabbing his hairbrush and putting his hair tie around his wrist. 

Aggie always has hair ties around her wrists, colourful ones. It looks like little simplistic bracelets. It’d be so cute if Baz walked around with his hair tie like that too. 

I try to force myself to stop staring -or  _ at least  _ to do something besides staring- because I do need to get changed. I push my trousers down, stepping out of them as Baz brushes his hair.

It looks so silky. I’m sure it would feel amazing to run my hand through it.

Jesus Christ, Simon.

I grab the trousers of my uniform, looking away from Baz for a moment -I’d probably trip and fall and die if I tried putting them on without looking at my feet- and when I straighten my back to close my fly and button, I see that Baz has collected all of his hair in one hand and that he’s putting the tie around it, which is insanely more hot than it has any right to be. He isn’t even tying his hair back in that messy way like when he’s doing homework and wants his hair to be sort of out of his face, no, it’s just a bloody neat ponytail, without a strand of hair out of place.

It shouldn’t look  _ good _ , ponytails that tight look silly, but somehow it  _ does _ . Look good, I mean.

I’m sure that bastard would make a garbage bag look good. It’s so irritating. 

I’m sliding my arm into the sleeve of my shirt when Baz turns around. He looks at me -just my face- and says with a very Baz Pitch smirk and a wink, “See you at the match then.” 

It makes my stomach feel all funny.

**…**

**Baz**

I want to bang my head against the wall  _ and  _ giggle like a schoolgirl at the same time.

I flirted with Snow.

Because that’s what it was, right?

The glances in the mirror. The smiles. The things we said.

It wasn’t on Snow’s part, of course, he was just taking the piss out of me, but  _ I  _ was flirting.

Merlin, I hate myself.

It’s like the more I try to get him out of my mind, the more obsessed with him I become. 

Snow telling me a few teasing words and giving me an annoying grin has me more flustered than anything I’ve done with Eliza yesterday. I hate it. I hate how weak he makes me.

I can control myself in general, but whenever I meet his stupid blue eyes, all of those thought and desires I know I shouldn’t have come back and I’m unable to stop them.

Because I enjoy them too much.

Because it hurts so good to be with him. To love him. 

**…**

**Simon**

Surprisingly, Penny is at the match.

Well, she’s waiting behind the bleachers, really. When I ask her why -she’s always complaining about me forcing her to come to Baz’s matches- she simply says, “I knew you’d come,” before leading me to a part of the bleachers that isn’t too crowded, but that isn’t too high and far from the pitch either. 

She chose good places. 

I can see Baz from here…

**…**

**Baz**

I’m running laps around the pitch to get my blood running, which I’m not supposed to do. Coach hates when we do that before matches, but he can yell all he wants, I know he won’t kick me out of the team. I’m his best player, and that’s without even using my vampire speed or strength. So I really couldn’t care less about what he says. 

I like this. Just running. It’s a bit strange to do it with an audience, but the people in the bleachers are probably too busy chatting to look at me.

Except Eliza.

She just arrived and I feel like I should go see her. Give a little show in case some people  _ are  _ watching.

But Snow is here too and I don’t like doing things with Eliza when he’s around. It’s silly, it’s not like he would care, but I don’t like it.

Still. It’s important. I have to maintain this act, and I know popularity is one of the reasons why Eliza is dating me. I’m not great at the sex thing, but popularity, that I can give her.

I didn’t really believe Fiona when she said that dating at Watford was the worst thing when you’re a Pitch, because everyone is in your business. Now I  _ do  _ believe her. I’ve seen it for myself. 

I jog in Eliza’s direction, calling her name when I reach the bottom of the bleachers.

She smiles and gets down.

I pull her into a kiss, drowning in the whistles and laughter of people around her. Perfect.

When we break apart, I give her a wink and smirk, trying to picture that I’m doing it to Snow, like earlier.

“Cheer for me,” I tell her before turning away.

As I start running again, I distantly hear someone -one of her friends, I can’t tell their voices apart- say, in between silly giggles. “He’s going to score more than goals.”

Fuck, I hope I’ll only score goals. I can’t do this twice in the same weekend. 

When I run by the part of the bleachers where Snow is sitting, I notice that he looks upset, and I fight the urge to shoot him a smile. We’re not in our room. And it’s not like a smile from me is going to make him feel any better. It’s not because he tolerates me now that I can comfort him.

I wish I knew why he’s upset though...

I hope it’s not because I flirted with him. I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

But of course he’d be uncomfortable. A bloke flirted with him. He has every fucking right to be upset.

I shake my head.

_ Think about the match. _

Football is one of my only forms of escapism. I’m  _ not  _ going to ruin that for myself by overthinking the look on Simon Snow’s face five minutes before the match begins. 


	30. Chapter Thirty

**Simon**

He looks incredible.

His cheeks are pink, but from the effort, not embarrassment or anger. His football kit looks like bloody designer clothes on him. The “PITCH” printed on his back clings to him a little because he’s sweating. He has a bit of sweat on his forehead too, and some strands of hair are flying wildly out of his ponytail after he moved around so much while he was warming up and during the match. 

He’s so fucking hot.

Since I realized it, it’s all I can think about.

_ Baz is hot, Baz is hot, Baz is hot. _

He scores another goal -the third one, he’s bloody brilliant- and the crowd cheers and claps. I cheer and clap too, my eyes fixed on him. He’s thankfully not too far like he was when he scored his first goal, so I can see the proud smile on his lips. 

It makes a smile grow on  _ my  _ lips.

He’s so…

“Penny,” I say, my eyes still on Baz.

“Yes?”

“I think I have a crush.”

**…**

**Penny**

He’s staring  _ right  _ at Baz, he must be talking about him, right? There’s no way this is about someone else.

If it’s about someone else I might actually shake him until the pieces get put together in his brain.

“Oh yeah? Dark hair, about 6’2”, probably a vampire?” I say, low enough that I won’t be heard by the people around, mocking the description of Baz he gave me yesterday.

He blushes slightly.

“Yeah. Exactly.”

_ Thank Merlin. _

**…**

**Simon**

Penny turns her head towards me long enough to smile at me before looking back at the match. 

“Are you going to do something about it?”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

She looks at me again, with that skeptical look that means ‘Really, Simon?’, before shaking her head in disbelief.

“We’ll talk about it later when we’re alone,” she decrees, patting my knee.

**…**

**Baz**

We win, of course. 

My teammates cheer. 

Dev clasps my shoulder with a “Good job.”, that I return.

On the bleachers, Niall is clapping and whistling. He doesn’t care about football but he likes the matches.

And Eliza… She’s leaning against the barrier that keeps the other students from being on the pitch with us players, looking my way.

I get the hint, and run to her, kissing her even more showily than I did before the match. Kissing her is becoming easier and easier, after doing it repeatedly.

“You were amazing babe,” she says with that irritatingly sweet voice she uses when she knows people are listening.

I smile. “Thanks.”

Her hand on my neck fiddles with the collar of my shirt. “Do you think you could make some time for me so that I can congratulate you for how good you were on the pitch?”

I try not to let any of my nervousness show in my chuckle. “Maybe later,” I say, confidently. I do  _ not  _ intend on making time for her later. “For now, I want to change and have lunch. I’m starving.”

She looks disappointed. She was probably expecting me to shag her in the changing rooms or something.

Well, that’s definitely not happening. 

I think that even if I  _ wanted  _ to fuck her, I physically wouldn’t have enough strenght to be able to once I’m not high on adrenaline anymore. I can already feel my limbs getting heavy.

And I’m so  _ hungry. _

So...

5 days and a match, with one snack.

Last month it was 5 days without the match and with three snacks. 

**…**

**Penny**

“Do you want to go talk now or do you want lunch first?”

That’s a stupid question. He’s going to choose lunch. It’s Simon.

“Talk,” he answers, making my eyebrows shoot up. 

Crowley, he must really want to talk about his so-called crush on Baz. What am I getting myself into? 

“Okay then. What about the library? No one will be there during lunch break and it’s close enough to the dining hall to still get there before lunch break is over.”

He shrugs. 

I told him a million times that shrugs were not good replacements for sentences, but they remain his favourite way to communicate. 

I take that as a yes, and walk to the library with him. We sit at a table located far away from the librarian, and I start talking immediately.

“What is it that you feel for Baz exactly? Are you… in love with him?”

It would be a bit strange, but not that improbable. Love and hate are twin feelings, I suppose the line between them can get blurry.

His entire face turns red.

“What? No! I don’t think so? I mean. It’s  _ Baz,  _ Penny. I… I kinda like him when he isn’t being a dick but that doesn’t mean that I’m… No. Maybe I like him a bit, but I’m not  _ in love _ with him. I do think I’m attracted to him, though. He’s so fit. Fuck, Penny, I… He makes me… Crowley this is embarrassing…” He blushes even more, which I didn’t think was possible, and then continues, slurring his words and whispering. “Thinking about him, it does things to me,  _ physically _ . I never… I never felt that before.”

What’s an appropriate answer? Congratulations on discovering sexual attraction?

That’s definitely not an appropriate response, so instead, I simply reach out and pat his arm.

“Relax Si, it’s okay.”

“But it’s not just Baz,” he adds, shifting uncomfortably. “I think I’m gay. I’m not  _ sure  _ but I think I am and it’s kind of… it’s… weird to think about. It’s not that I think that there’s something wrong with being gay or anything,” he says hurriedly. “But just...  _ me  _ being gay, it’s… I never thought that I might be gay and all of a sudden, I realize that I’m attracted to a boy. It’s a bit of a shock.”

He laughs shortly, nervously.

I give him a sympathetic smile, even though I have no idea what he’s going through. I’ve never doubted the fact that I was straight.

“You know that it’s okay if you are, right? It wouldn’t change anything for me,” I say, remembering what Keris had told me when I talked to her. 

His lips curl up in a big smile as he squeezes my hand, and he sounds a bit choked up when he says, “Thank you.”

**…**

**Baz**

It’s lucky I’m eating today, because Niall and Dev have decided to sit at the same table as Eliza, her friends, and I, and I wasn’t feeling like having their disapproving gazes on my empty plate for the entire meal.

I fill my plate with as much pasta as I can, not even taking a spoonful of vegetables to have a clear conscience, and then I head back to the table, chatting lightly with Dev about the match. We were really fucking good today, even the boys in the team who usually aren’t that great.

I take a seat in between Eliza and Niall, while Dev sits on Niall’s other side, which coincidentally makes him sit next to one of Eliza’s indistinct friends. I wouldn’t be surprised if he called her annoying by the end of lunch. My cousin can be… blunt.

Eliza takes a look at my plate, and then points it with a smirk.

“Are you going to eat all of that? You could have left some for the others,” she says, in a way that is more  _ mocking  _ than  _ teasing. _

I look down at my plate too.

It’s true that I’ve taken a lot of food. More than anyone else at our table, and Dev is always starving after matches.

“Baz.”

Niall’s voice comes up to my ear on the other side as Eliza’s, soft and calm.

“Don’t listen to her, eat all of that if you want to eat all of that, it’s alright. Look, I’ve got less food on my plate than you, but I have two desserts.” He takes the two little plates set on either side of his glass. Cheesecake, he loves that. Dev gave him his. “We’re eating the same, it’s just that you’re only eating pasta and I’m eating different things,” he says, forcing a laugh to try and make me relax. “You’re not eating too much even if you finish your plate.”

“Why are you talking to him like that? He isn’t a child,” Eliza says.

Her voice sounds  _ so  _ obnoxious in comparison to Niall’s.

He leans in just enough to glare at her. Dev isn’t looking at her kindly either.

“Shut up. And don’t comment on what he eats. As far as I know, he’s the one who just played a football match while you were sitting on your arse doing nothing. It makes sense he’d be hungry.”

Oh Merlin.

This is going to be ugly.

Eliza and Niall…

Well, let’s just say that they don’t like each other, and that they have both made that  _ abundantly clear  _ every time they were forced to interact because of me.

Eliza snorts. “You were sitting on your arse doing nothing too, you have nothing to say. Besides I’m right, that’s too much food. _You_ have taken too much too and you don’t even have the excuse of playing the match.” There’s a cruel gleam in her eyes. I hate this. “Not that you _could_ have been playing the match. They don’t let girls try out for the football team.”

My jaw drops.

“What did that bitch just say?” Dev asks, his voice ringing with anger.

Niall extends his arm back to keep Dev from standing up at the same time as I stand up.

I give Eliza one of my darkest glares. 

I could have taken a lot. 

I could have accepted being told things that bother  _ me _ , I could have accepted inappropriate comments about  _ my  _ behaviour or looks or whatever. But I can’t let an insult directed to my friend slide. Niall and Dev… they’re off limits. 

“We’re done,” I tell Eliza, my voice cold. “You and I. It’s over.” I take my plate, seeing Niall and Dev stand up from the corner of my eye. “I should have ended it yesterday anyway. The sex was terrible. I’ve never been  _ less  _ aroused than when you were naked in front of me.”


	31. Chapter Thirty One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dev and Niall get a little scene because I wanted to write them being idiots, for once

**Simon**

“You’ll never guess what happened in the dining hall,” Agatha says, practically throwing herself on a chair.

She makes both Penny and I jump. 

“How did you find us?” Penny asks, a frown on her face.

“You weren’t at lunch, it wasn’t hard to figure out where you were.  _ Anyway _ . Merlin Simon, I can’t believe you missed this. You’re always stalking Baz and when he  _ finally  _ does something, you’re not even there.”

She’s almost giggling, her eyes shining. 

Crowley, what has Baz done? For Aggie to be this excited, it must be interesting gossip. 

“What happened?”

Agatha straightens her back, clearing her throat.

“Ok, so, he was having lunch with his girlfriend and their friends, and then something happened, I don’t know what, I wasn’t paying attention then, but  _ then  _ Baz stoop up precipitately, and that’s when people started looking at them because maybe we were  _ finally _ getting some drama at this school. So Baz stood up, and he  _ broke up  _ with Eliza in front of everyone, just like that, and he even told her that she was terrible in bed, basically. It was incredible.”

My eyes go wide, my lips parting.

Baz broke up with his girlfriend.

Is he finally going to admit he’s gay, now that he can’t use her as an excuse?

I feel excitement rise in me, but probably not for the same reason as Agatha.

**…**

**Niall**

I thought that breaking up with Eliza would make come back to his senses and that he’d stop trying to do anything with a girl.

I was wrong.

By the end of the afternoon, he has a small army of horny teenage girls promising him the sex wouldn’t be as disappointed with them as with Eliza. 

If they knew…

I tried to talk him out of it, of course, but he never fucking listens, so instead of stopping, he answers those girls’ flattering words, throwing smiles and compliments around. 

It’s such a shit show to witness, Dev and I eventually gave up. We’re on our way back to our room, my heart heavy and Dev’s face covered in confusion.

“Do you know why he does that?” he asks me once we’re in our room. “If he’s gay, why does he tries to date girls? Is it like when you used to wear makeup and skirts all the time?”

“I guess,” I say with a sigh as I slump on my chair. Dev comes to sit on my bed, so that we’re close. I use his lap as a footrest, because I can and because I know he won’t push me away, giving him a teasing smile before I become serious again. “It’s hard, you know. Finding out that you’re not straight, in Baz’s case.”

Dev hums, as he unlaces my shoes, which is rather surprising, but I did put my feet on him. Besides, what is more surprising is the… knowing way he hummed? Not like he was just agreeing with me because he knew I know something about queer experience, but like he was agreeing because  _ he  _ knows something about queer experience.

I chase that thought.

I’m so fucking in deep I start over analyzing something as simple as a hum. It’s ridiculous.

He takes my shoe off, then unlace the second one.

I try to ignore whatever it is that he’s doing as I continue, “Baz… he has even more expectations to meet than the rest of us, you know, being a Pitch and all that. He wants to date girls to try and convince himself he isn’t gay, unsuccessfully of course. It’s not something he can just decide not to be anymore.”

As I was talking, Dev took my other shoe off. 

“Yeah, I know,” he says absentmindedly as he starts  _ massaging my feet _ .

“Dev what the fuck,” I say, unable to hold it back,

He looks up at me, completely unbothered.

“What? You’re the one who put your feet there.”

I promptly take my feet off his lap.

“To annoy you, not for you to start doing weird shit. Do you have a foot fetish I haven’t heard of, Grimm?” I ask, because jokes solve every awkward situation with him.

He winks. “Only if it’s your feet.”

Merlin I hate him.

He keeps doing that.

This pretense of flirting, it’s killing me. Someone should write a law that forbids straight best friends you happen to be in love with to fake flirt with you.

**…**

**Baz**

There’s nothing more exhausting than pretending to flirt with straight girls.

I’m completely knackered when I get back to my room -which might be because of the match and not the girls, but I’d rather blame it on the girls. When in doubt, always blame it on the straight girls.

Snow is in the room -I knew he would be, he  _ should _ be, and I could perceive the buttery smell of his blood as I was going up the stairs. I don’t know if it makes things worse or better. Part of me absolutely doesn’t want to see him, because he makes my brain turn off and give up control to my stupid, pathetic heart. The other part of me couldn’t be happier to finally be able to lay eyes on him, after seeing him so little today. 

“You were amazing at the match today,” he says as a greeting, offering me one of those gorgeous smiles I never thought I’d see directed to me.

I’m a bit taken aback by the compliment, but I enjoy it nonetheless.

“Thank you.”

He smiles wider, and then he’s looking back at the piece of paper on his lap. Can’t he go sit at his desk to do this? He’s really going to ruin his back staying like this for long periods of time. 

I take my shoes off, then my coat, and I throw my bag with my dirty football kit on the floor. I might exploit Snow and ask him to take my dirty laundry downstairs to be washed as a thank you for saving his life. I don’t have it in me to do it myself to go now, and I’m not going to wake up earlier for class to do laundry.

I miss the first years when someone would collect our dirty clothes for us. 

Then, I take my pyjamas out of my closet and go to the bathroom to change. It’s still early, but I don’t intend on going to dinner and I want to be comfortable. I suppose I  _ can  _ be comfortable around Snow, now. No need to keep my clothes until after he’s asleep so that he won’t see me in pyjamas anymore.

I brush my teeth, and my hair. I hesitate to tie it back, and end up keeping the tie where it is on my wrist, in case I want to put my hair up later -those stupid hair ties get lost too easily when they’re not on me.

Eventually, I leave the bathroom.

Snow is still colouring, so I simply climb on my bed and grab a book. I ache to have a conversation with him, but I don’t want to bother him when he’s relaxing. It’s rare not to have my nostrils filled with the smoky smell of his magic.

After some time that I spend rereading the same sentence over and over again, he clears his throat.

“So… Uh… I heard that you broke up with your girlfriend.”

I put my book down on my chest, and turn my head to look at him.

“I did.”

“I would say sorry but I’m not sure if  _ you  _ are sad that you two broke up,” he says, chewing his pencil.

It’s disgusting, and it makes his words sound funny. I wish I could replace his pencil. Feel his teeth on my lip as we kiss.

_ Baz, no. _

I take a slightly shaky breath.

“I’m not. We didn’t date for long. I wasn’t in love with her.”

I’m in love with  _ you. _

He shrugs, and starts biting his pencil more nervously.

I swear to Merlin if he asks if I’m gay again I  _ will  _ cast a spell on him. 

“Baz, can I talk to you about something? It’s… I guess it’s kind of serious,” he eventually says, looking at me straight in the eyes. 

His voice is unsteady but his eyes are sure. 

I sit up, positioning myself in front of him. My book falls close on the bed. 

“Yeah, sure.”

He takes his pencil out of his mouth, tapping it on his knee instead. 

“I know that you don’t want to say if you’re gay or not but I… I’m not asking just to bother you or something I… need help. I’m…” He looks away, his cheeks pink. “Jesus Christ, this is difficult,” he says with a nervous laugh. I wait for him to speak again, tense. He looks back at me, and his words completely stun me. “I think  _ I’m  _ gay.”


	32. Chapter Thirty Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey hey ^^  
> super random, but if you’re ever looking for something new to read, my friend is writing this story; [Like Hell](https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/29664456/chapters/72937995), it’s super fun, in it Baz is a lust demon that Simon summoned as a familiar 👀

**Baz**

Snow’s words echo in my head.

_ I think I’m gay. _

This is a scenario straight from my dreams, so why do I feel so bad?

I think about my behaviour, in the past few days, when he asked about my sexuality. How aggressive I was. He was just trying to get help, and I probably made him feel like there was something wrong with being gay. And there  _ is  _ when it’s me who’s gay. Not when it’s Snow. It’s okay if Snow is gay. 

“Why do you think you’re gay?”

“There’s no point telling you,” he says, avoiding my gaze again. “If you’re not gay, you can’t help me. I already have one straight friend who doesn’t know what it’s like.”

Crowley, he really wants a confession out of me. 

I know it’s stupid, to be so adamant about  _ not  _ telling Snow when I know perfectly well that he knows, especially after he told me that he thought he might be gay too, but admitting it… it’s so difficult.

I sigh.

“I can help you.”

It’s still not  _ I’m gay  _ but I think it’s the closest I can get to saying it. 

“Oh. Okay. Great, thank you,” Snow says, relief washing over him.

Does he think I’m some sort of gay mentor with all the answers he need? He’s truly mistaken if he does. I’m not sure I’ve known about my own sexuality for long enough to truly be of any help, but if he just wants to know how to figure it out, I should be able to help. 

“So, why do you think you’re gay?” I ask again.

He completely lets go of his pencil, playing with his hands instead, while looking at them.

“Well… Do you mind if I talk about sex?”

If I had enough blood to, I would blush. Simon Snow wants to talk about  _ sex _ . I know it won’t be in a sexy way, but just the thought of him talking about himself in a sexual context makes my blood run a little hot.

“No, go on,” I say, trying to sound unbothered.

Snow is being serious. I can’t let myself be too flustered. I know for a fact how difficult it can be to talk about these things. I’ll allow myself to be as horny as I want, picturing Simon Snow and sex, sex with Simon Snow, when I’ll be alone and safe, in the bathroom with spells as barriers.

“Ok, so,” he says, blood rushing to his cheeks. “When I was with Agatha, we tried doing some stuff, you know, but uh… it didn’t… I didn’t…”

“You weren’t aroused?” I try, seeing that he’s struggling with his words, finding the words he might deem the least embarrassing.

He blushes harder. 

“Yeah. It just… didn’t do it for me. But… well… recently I… I started fantasizing about doing this kind of stuff but with a boy, and… well…  _ that  _ does it for me.”

Snow fantasized about sex with a boy. Merlin, this is going to turn me on.

_ Focus Basilton.  _ He needs guidance.

“Okay. I suppose you’ve tried fantasizing about girls, in the past?”

He nods hesitantly. “Kind of, I guess? I mean I’ve tried to think of… you know tits and arse and all that but I never really got turned on unless I just imagined hands touching me. Not necessarily someone in particular, just being touched.”

I hum.

I must admit that doesn’t look very straight to me...

“But you have thought about a boy and got turned on?” I ask, to confirm it.

“Yeah,” he answers.

His face is so red I can practically smell and hear the blood pulsing in his cheeks.

“Alright…” I say, giving him a small, encouraging smile. I don’t want him to feel ashamed or embarrassed. “Now, have you ever considered dating a boy?”

**…**

**Simon**

Not until recently.

But when he’s sitting in front of me like this, in his pyjamas, looking so cozy but so gorgeous at the same time, and being nice to me…

Well.

It makes the thought of dating a boy rather appealing… A boy in particular… 

I can’t tell him that of course. Even if he’s gay, he probably doesn’t want me to proposition him. It’s creepy.

“Yeah, I have,” I admit.

“And if given the chance, would you date a girl again?” Baz.

I take a moment to think about that. 

Would I?

If I had the choice between Baz and a girl? 

Baz.

Definitely Baz.

Jesus, maybe Penny was right to ask and I  _ do  _ have a crush on Baz. Like, an  _ in love  _ kind of crush. There’s a different between just wanting sex with him and wanting to date him. 

I wonder what it would be like dating Baz.

I don’t think he’d hold my hand and kiss me in the corridors like he did with his girlfriend -was she  _ really  _ his girlfriend if he’s gay?- since he already won’t tell me that he’s gay, but I think it could still be nice. 

Would he be cold like Agatha, only letting me hold his hand occasionally, shying away from my touch when I try to hug him, or would he like cuddling? He was cuddling Niall the other day, so I suppose that’s something he likes.

Cuddling Baz… 

I imagine his body next to mine. His strong arms around me. His head on my chest, my hand threading through his hair, feeling as soft and silky as I imagine it to be. 

I imagine him looking up at me, with those impossibly grey eyes, and crawling up my body to kiss me lazily.

The thoughts make my heart flutter.

“Snow?”

Shit, I must have gotten lost in my mind for too long. 

“Yeah, sorry, I was thinking.”

“Were you? How unusual,” he says with a teasing smile that I want to keep off his perfect fucking face. Then, he slips back into a more serious attitude. “Do you have an answer? Would you date a girl?”

I bite my lip. “No. I don’t think I would. But… uh… Actually… There’s something that I think could maybe… well… help me figure it out.”

This is a terrible idea. Probably the worst one I ever had. There’s a 99% chance he’s going to hate me again.

But for that other 1%... 

I guess it’s worth a shot.

I’ve never been one to let risks scare me.

“What is that?” Baz asks curiously.

“Well… I suppose that kissing a boy might help…”


	33. Chapter Thirty Three

**Simon**

I think I broke him.

He’s staring at me, blinking fast, mouth gaping and eyebrows shot up. It would be funny if it wasn’t so nerve racking.

“I just…” I try, since he still isn’t saying or doing anything. “I’ve kissed a girl. I know what I feel when I do. Maybe… If I kissed a boy, I’d know if it’s different. Better. I suppose if I’m gay, it  _ should  _ be better.”

**…**

**Baz**

Is… Is Simon Snow asking me to kiss him? To experiment with me, to know if he’s gay or not?

Yes, please Snow, let me be your experiment. I don’t care if it’ll crush me when you realize you don’t want to kiss boys, or that you want to kiss  _ other _ boys. Please let me feel your lips on mine just once.

I’m going mad. 

This is the best thing that could ever happen to me. It’s surreal.

“Just to be clear,” I say, because I have to be 100% sure I’m not misinterpreting this. “You want us to kiss.”

“Yeah,” he says with one of his signature shrugs. “I mean it doesn’t mean anything you know, people kiss 

other people for no reason all the time at parties and stuff so… it can just be that.” 

Of course he’d insist that it doesn’t mean anything beforehand. It would be such _ a shame  _ if I believed he liked me in any way.

I can’t be bitter about this, though. How could I be bitter about kissing the boy I’m in love with?

“Okay then,” I say, acting as relaxed as I can. “You’re right, after all it’s just a kiss. If it can make you stop talking so that I can enjoy my book in peace, I’m all for it.”

I don’t put any bite into the words. Even if things have been weirdly casual between Snow and I since his mission, it’s obviously still a very fragile thing that I can’t ruin with my mean words. 

“You’re such a prick,” he mumbles, rolling his eyes, but he’s getting out of his bed at the same time. 

Oh fuck.

Holy fucking shit this is really happening.

He’s crossing the distance between our two beds, the determination of the soldier he is on his face. He’s glorious. 

I honestly didn’t think he’d  _ actually  _ do it, but now his knees are digging in my mattress, on my left side, as he climbs on my bed, and there’s no more doubt to be had.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” he asks me, and he seems to genuinely care about my answer. I’m sure if I said no he’d simply go back to his bed.

Not that I  _ would  _ say no. I’m not a fool.

**…**

**Simon**

“Yes, Snow, I’m okay with this. Who would refuse a kiss from the Chosen One?” he says, with that stupid smirk of his.

I want to kiss it off his face.

And I do.

He closes his eyes immediately. Maybe to imagine it’s someone else.

That thought makes my hands clench around his shoulders, so I chase it, and focus on the kiss instead.

His lips are cold. That’s the first thing I notice. All of Baz is cold. When we used to fight -physically fight- his fists were like ice when they hit me. 

His lips are cold. But it’s not unpleasant. It’s the same kind of cold as when you take a shower without using any hot water at all after a day sweating under the sun. 

It’s a kind of cold that still feels warm, because he’s moving his lips like he’s done this his whole life, kissing me back like he  _ wants  _ this.

His apparent eagerness makes me bold, so I stick my tongue out, licking along his teeth. He opens his mouth immediately and  _ fuck _ he really does seem to want this. This is surreal. 

Our tongues meet, and my eyes, that I had desperately tried to keep open to be able to look at him, at his beautiful face from this close, at the peaceful look he has on it as I kiss him, shut on their own accord.

His lips are cold. But his mouth isn’t.

It’s warm and wet and overall not so different from Agatha’s mouth, but completely different at the same time. 

I like how Baz tastes.

I couldn’t describe it, but I know I like it. 

I like how he kisses too.

It’s slow, but like everything with him, it’s full of fire, and it starts one in my belly. 

He doesn’t kiss me like it’s a chore, even if he’s only doing it because I asked. Not the way Agatha used to kiss me. 

I have to stop thinking about Agatha.

This is  _ Baz. _

Baz Pitch’s shoulders -a bit too bony- under my fingers. 

Baz Pitch’s lips on mine, softer even than his stupid posh pyjamas.

Just…  _ Baz Pitch. _

A vampire.

A bully.

Probably the most irritating person I know.

Baz Pitch.

My roommate. 

The boy who knelt in my blood for hours, using up his magic to keep me alive.

The boy I want.

**…**

**Baz**

Snow pulls back and I want to grab his neck and press his lips against mine again. Or cry. 

It can’t be over already. Please, I don’t want this to end. Nothing has ever felt as earth shattering as kissing Simon Snow. It was soft and slow but it completely wrecked me, shook me to my core. It was a forest fire, burning everything around us, and then burning me. 

Just like his gaze is burning me when I open my eyes.

“So?” I say, sounding a little breathless. “What’s your conclusion?”

His fingers start absentmindedly taping my shoulders  _ -he hasn’t moved his hands-  _ and I might _ actually  _ start crying. 

“This was  _ so much  _ better than kissing Agatha,” he admits, his eyes gleaming.

He’s so beautiful it hurts.

“Was it?” I ask, because if I only ever get to kiss Simon Snow once, I want to hear him say it was good  _ more _ than once.

He nods, chuckling. “Yeah. Fuck Baz, yeah, it was.”

His hands move slightly. His fingers are stroking my neck now, so warm against my skin.

I melt under the touch.

Simon Snow is gently caressing my neck after he just kissed me, while looking at me with his eyes full of sparkles like a child on Christmas morning.

I’m living a charmed life.

“Baz?”

I hum. 

“Can I kiss you again?”

“No.” His face falls, and his hands freeze. Before he can move away, I grab the back of his neck like I’ve wanted to since his weight made my mattress dip, and bring his face so close to mine that his features are blurry and that our breaths merge together, hot between us. “ _ I’m  _ kissing you this time.”


	34. Chapter Thirty Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m posting three times instead of two today because I wrote a lot yesterday and I want chaos 👀

**Baz**

I stop thinking, and simply  _ enjoy _ . Enjoy the feeling of his chapped lips and teasing teeth. Enjoy the taste of him on my tongue. Enjoy his hands on my neck, playing with my hair. Enjoy having my nostrils full of his smell -his smoky magic, buttery blood, and the clean scent of the school issued soap. 

I let myself enjoy this…

**…**

**Simon**

This is good. This is so good. 

But it’s not  _ enough. _

His mouth has barely left mine since our lips first met, and our hands are on each other’s necks, but I’m greedy and I want more. 

I shift until my knees are on either sides of his thighs, straddling his lap to be able to press our chests together.

He moans softly into the kiss, and that single sound, that vibrates in my mouth, nearly kills me. 

It’s so hot.

_ He  _ is so hot.

I’m getting hard, and it should probably be embarrassing, but his lips are too bewitching to think of anything else.

As I try to position myself more comfortably -my knees aren’t having a good time supporting almost the entire weight of my body- my hips press against his stomach, which incidentally makes my growing erection press against he stomach.

And he freezes completely.

**…**

**Baz**

…Until I don’t.

Snow is hard and it’s terrifying.

I’ve never felt someone’s erection pressed against my body. With Niall, well, it just couldn’t happen, and with that bloke at the bar, I felt his hard cock  _ inside  _ me before I could feel it  _ against  _ me.

But now, I’m snogging Snow, and he’s  _ hard _ .

I’m hard too and it’s even worse.

It’s like I didn’t fully comprehend what was happening until I was confronted with the physical reality of it, in the form of Snow’s erection.  _ Our  _ erections.

I shouldn’t get hard kissing a boy.

I shouldn’t even be kissing a boy in the first place. 

It’s…  _ wrong.  _ It’s not the way things are supposed to be.

I push him off my lap, wiping my mouth clean under his confused gaze.

“Baz, what’s wrong?” he asks, squeezing his legs together to hide his hard on.

“Get off my bed.” 

“Baz…” 

He sounds so lost as he reaches out with his hand to touch my knee, or my arm, I don’t know, and I  _ won’t  _ know because I push him away again, with so much strength he almost falls backwards on the floor.

_ “Get off my fucking bed!” _ I say again, my voice full of anger. “We should… This should have never happened, it’s fucking disgusting!”

This anger isn’t directed at him. It’s directed at me. Only at me. Always at me.

But it hits him just the same. 

He physically moves back, as if my words were a slap in the face. 

The hurt in his eyes just adds to the guilt I was already feeling from kissing him. He gets off my bed, just as I told him to, and with every step he makes towards his own bed, I feel more and more empty and more and more relieved at the same time. 

He has barely touched his mattress that I’m already out of the room. 

**…**

**Simon**

What did I do wrong?

I thought…

He seemed to be liking it.  _ He  _ kissed me the second time, that must mean he wanted it, right?

Then  _ why?  _ Why did he push me away, why was he  _ disgusted  _ all of a sudden?

Probably because he realized it was me.

He was closing his eyes for most of the time we were snogging, it was probably easy to imagine someone else like this. Someone he doesn’t hate. Someone who looks good, like him. Someone who wouldn’t be kissing him to know if they’re gay.

Someone who’s the complete opposite of me. Someone who is  _ actually  _ good enough for a bloke like him. 

But then he must have somehow been reminded that it was  _ me  _ he was kissing, and so  _ of course  _ he wanted to stop. 

I was a fool to think Baz, Mr Perfect, who’s grossed out by about everything I do, could want to be kissing  _ me. _

**** **…**

**Baz**

I run to the Catacombs. I don’t even care that I’m in my pyjamas, nor that I’m using my full speed and not my “human” speed, nor that I’m so hurt and frustrated and angry that tears are burning my eyes -I can always blame them on the cold wind whipping my face. I don’t care that it’s still early enough for the last people to stay outside to see me. 

I don’t care about anything except the crushing pain in my chest.

It’s so agonizing that I collapse on the ground, my knees hitting the freezing stone in front of my mother’s tomb hard. 

I can’t breathe.

I don’t even really  _ need  _ to breathe, and I’d have to do much more effort than that for it to take my breath away, and yet  _ I can’t breathe _ . The air is stuck in my tied throat.

I was kissing Snow, and he was kissing me. My biggest fantasy since I realized I was in love with him was coming to life and I ruined it.

It’s like being offered eternity in heaven and asking to be forever doomed in hell instead. 

But isn’t that what I’ve always done? Ruined every nice thing I could have? Deliberately chosen the option that will hurt when I could have something good?

I sit back so that I can pull my knees up to my chest, hugging them.

I simply stay there in silence, listening to water dripping drop by drop somewhere in the Catacombs -which isn’t surprising, it rained this afternoon- and to the rats running around, until I don’t feel like I’m suffocating anymore.

Then I look up at my mother’s grave. I hesitate to touch it. Usually I do. Carved letters on cold marble are a familiar comfort for me. They’re almost more representative of my mother in my memory than calloused hands and hot magic.

Sometimes I do more than just  _ touching it _ . Sometimes I hold onto the stone like it’s a person I’m hugging, crying my eyes out and sharing my feelings to the only person it’s easy to talk to because I know she’ll never answer.

But tonight it feels wrong. Touching the grave, I mean. Those hands were on a boy merely thirty minutes ago. Surely my mother wouldn’t want them on her.

So I keep them to myself. 

“Hello Mother. It’s been a while, I know. Things have been rather crazy, for a while now… but recently it got particularly messy, and I didn’t want to talk to you because there was nothing I wanted you to know about. I haven’t done anything worth telling you in so long… But there’s this one thing I have to tell you. It’s not a good thing, but I have to get it off my chest.” I pause, closing my eyes. Even without a real audience, it’s hard to say. “I’m gay, Mother. Father said that if you were alive you’d be so ashamed of having me as your son. He said that if you knew how I would turn out, a vampire  _ and  _ queer, you’d regret having even tried to protect me on that terrible day. He said it would have broken your heart to see your little boy become…  _ this.  _ I wonder if that’s true, or if he’s just saying horrible things to hurt me. It’s probably true, though. I’m not stupid. I know that what I am… It’s all wrong, and it’s the opposite of what the Pitch heir should be. And I’m  _ so sorry  _ for that. I wish…” I take a shaky breath, my voice rendered hoarse and wet by tears. “I wish I could have grown up to be a son you’d have been proud of, if you were here.”


	35. Chapter Thirty Five

**Baz**

They’re going to hate me. 

“Baz? What’s wrong?” 

Dev’s already in his pyjamas. Shit, it must really be late.

“Please let me sleep here,” I ask, pathetically. “I… I can explain why, but not in the corridor.”

He doesn’t sigh, but I’m sure he wants to. He must be so tired of my bullshit. They must _both_ be. 

They never pull things like this. Maybe it’s because they have each other, so they don’t need to run to me. Maybe it’s because they’re not fucked up, so they don’t need to run to anyone. 

“Okay,” he says, stepping aside. “But be quiet. Niall’s sleeping.”

Oh, so it _is_ late. 

I nod, and walk in the room silently. Dev walks back to the bed easily, because he knows the way, and I do because I see in the dark about as well as in broad daylight. 

We sit in front of one another, and Dev doesn’t wait to ask, “So? Did something happen?”

 _Yeah_ , I’d say that something happened…

There’s no need to beat around the bush with Dev, so I just get straight to the point - _straight_ , yes, I know, hilarious.

“Snow and I kissed.”

It feels impossible to even say it. We’re supposed to hate each other. Snow is supposed to be straight, and even if he wasn’t, he isn’t supposed to want to kiss _me_. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Dev asks, his voice full of incomprehension. 

“I kissed Snow. He kissed me. We kissed. I can hardly make it any clearer,” I answer with a nervous laugh.

“Okay, I must have missed the memo, since when are Snow and you _friendly_ enough with one another to _kiss_?”

I sigh, rubbing my hands on my face.

“We _aren’t_ . Well, we were sort of trying to become friends? I suppose? But we weren’t nearly close enough for that, _obviously_ , so I freaked out and now I can’t look at him. I said some… nasty things to him.”

Dev _actually_ sighs this time. 

“Of course you did… You’re an idiot. What is it exactly that you said to him?”

“Well… I may have suggested that it was disgusting, what we did.”

“You did _not_ ,” Dev says, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I did. I _can’t_ go back to the room after that, I just can’t. Both the kissing and what I said. It’s too much. But it’s not even the worst part…”

Niall knows. I guess I can tell Dev too. The worst I risk is being teased endlessly about my silly crush on Simon Snow.

“What’s the worst part?”

I look down at my hands, even though I’m pretty sure Dev can’t see me, not neatly anyway. It’s too dark for normal eyes.

“The reason why I kissed him… It’s because I love him.”

“Love him?” he repeats under his breath. “Do you mean, ‘I want to date you’ kind of love?”

“Yeah, that,” I say, laughing nervously. 

I look up long enough to see that his eyes have gone wide. 

“Fuck. Wow. Okay. I… That’s kind of unexpected. Well not really actually. You’re kind of obsessed with him. But… uh… just a question… Why _the fuck_ would you tell him kissing him is disgusting if you’re in love with him?”

I groan.

“Because I like suffering, apparently,” I sigh, letting myself fall back on the bed. I almost hit my head against the edge of Dev’s desk. “It was all so wonderful, we were kissing and he was obviously enjoying it, but then I panicked and I pushed him away and I said what I said and I left. I had him right there, exactly where I wanted him, and I ruined it.”

I feel Dev’s hand patting my knee. 

“Maybe you didn’t ruin it. You fucked up pretty bad, but maybe if you talk to him, apologize for what you said, explain that kissing him made you go a little crazy and that’s why you reacted like that, it’ll be okay.”

“I’m not sure…” I let out another heavy sigh. “Whatever. We have class early tomorrow, we should sleep.”

I sit up, and then step out of the bed. It’s not my first time sleeping here. I’ve become rather good at spelling the floor soft to sleep on it.

Sometimes, we push Dev and Niall’s beds together and the three of us sleep there, but Niall is already sound asleep in his bed so that’s not an option right now. 

I hear Dev mumble a spell to duplicate his covers and pillow, and then he throws them at me. I settle on my rudimentary bed on the floor, burying myself under the covers. I’ve been freezing since I ran outside.

“While we’re talking about crushes…” Dev says after a moment, surprising me. 

He’s never really talked about girls with me, not in a serious way anyway. I don’t think he’s ever had a crush. Well, until now I guess. I hope it’s a nice girl and not one of the brainless ones who are all over me. 

“Yeah?” I say, encouragingly.

“I’m in love with Niall,” he blurts out.

Oh…

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Is any of us straight? 

“Since when do you like boys?” I ask, because that’s the shocking part here. Dev and Niall are so close. The fact that they may have feelings deeper than friendship... it makes sense. A lot of sense.

“I don’t know. I mean I guess I do. But does it even matter? I know that I like Niall. _That’s_ what matters.”

I hum. “Have you told him?”

“Are you mad? He’s my best mate. I don’t want to ruin that.”

Idiot.

No, idiot **s**. The both of them. 

I can’t believe them. They both like each other, and none of them has done anything about it. Aleister Crowley.

“I don’t think you’d ruin anything…” I say suggestively.

“What do you mean?”

I must help them, right? I can’t let them continue to be idiots.

It would probably be obnoxious, to be friends with a couple… But Niall is so convinced no one would ever _truly_ love him, and the one bloke he has a crush on likes him back. It’d be such a shame for them not to get together.

“I haven’t told you anything,” I start. “But this summer, Niall and I dated. Don’t ask. It was nice while it lasted, but it wasn’t meant to last. We were both in love with someone else. Me, with Snow, and Niall…”

I leave my sentence unfinished, though my meaning must be clear.

“And Niall?” Dev asks, because apparently he doesn’t want to leave things poetically unsaid. Pity.

“And Niall with you, you moron. Don’t be a coward and shoot your shot.”

He snorts. “Don’t be a coward and talk to Snow.”

“I’m not going to talk to Snow.”

If _I_ was the one who had been rejected like I rejected him, I wouldn’t want him to even _try_ to talk to me. 

Dev sighs dramatically. “You’re an idiot.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Fuck off.”

“You fuck off.”


	36. Chapter Thirty Six

**Simon**

I haven't seen Baz all week.

I was excited about spending a week in the room, at first, because I thought I’d get to spend the evenings chatting with Baz, but I ruined that when I asked him to kiss me, so instead, I was completely alone for five days, except during meals, which I took in the dining hall like everyone else. 

So really, I  _ have  _ seen Baz. But only from afar, and he avoided my gaze like the plague. Avoided  _ me  _ like the plague. He must have come to the room to change while I was asleep, because he had clean clothes everyday and his dirty laundry disappeared on Monday, but I never caught him.

It’s killing me.

I’d feel much better if he talked to me, even if it was to yell at me. Anything would be better than indifference. 

Baz ignoring me is possibly the worst thing he could do. Actually it’s the  _ second  _ worst thing he could do to me.

The first is ignoring me while flirting with girls all the time. I only see him for about an hour a day, and it’s still enough to notice how fucking much he flirts with them.

It makes me want to scream or break something.

Once he stroked a girl’s cheek and Penny had to drag me out of the dining hall because I was about to go off. 

It has to stop before I go mad. 

Thankfully, Baz is a creature of habit, and I know his schedule -because  _ okay _ , maybe Penny and Aggie are right and I’m a bit of a stalker- so I know that he isolates himself in one of the abandoned classrooms on the fifth floor to play the violin on Fridays after class. 

So that’s where I’m heading.

I get a few disapproving looks from teachers when they see me in the stairs after I missed class all week, but I honestly couldn’t care less. Most of the teachers don’t like me, but they also can’t really say anything to me because I’m close with the Mage. 

I hear music.

It makes me smile. I knew it. 

I take a moment to listen to it. I’ve never really gotten to hear Baz play, since he never does it in our room. 

It’s beautiful.

But it sounds sad. The kind of music that makes me think of a rainy day in winter.

I wonder if Baz is playing it because he’s sad. I hope not. I don’t want Baz to be sad.

Eventually, I gather all of my courage and come inside the room -if I knocked he wouldn’t let me in.

The music stops immediately, and Baz turns to me with an irritated look on his face.

“What do you want?”

**…**

**Baz**

I knew he was coming, of course. The smell of his blood has been making its way into my nostrils for a few minutes now. I’m rather embarrassed that he heard me play -I haven’t mastered this piece yet, I wasn’t playing particularly well- but I couldn’t stop before he entered or he would have known I had spotted his presence, which I wouldn’t have been able to do without my enhanced vampire senses. 

He doesn’t even look apologetic about intruding on me. 

“I need to talk to you.”

I place my violin back where it belongs, as if to start playing again. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“You’ve been ignoring me  _ all week, _ ” he says, sounding quite bothered by that.

I suppose his life must be boring when annoying me isn’t an option.

“And I intend on continuing to do just that,” I say as I close my eyes, approaching the bow to the strings.

Snow’s hand on my wrist stops me instantly. “Baz, please.”

I want to free myself of his hold, to push him away.

But… No I don’t. I  _ really  _ don’t. He isn’t even touching my skin, and it’s still intense. I’m so taken by him, it’s disgusting. 

I sigh heavily, but I put my violin back in its case nonetheless. I close the case, and then I’m looking back at Snow, arms crossed on my chest, stone-faced.

“Make it quick.”

Relief writes itself all over his features. 

“God, thank you. Okay, so, I understand that the kisses were a mistake, clearly it upset you that we snogged and I’m really sorry about that. I shouldn’t have asked you to kiss me in the first place. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable or whatever it is that I did wrong. Though honestly, I have to admit I don’t really understand what happened? I mean, you said you were okay with kissing me, and you know, I would have understood if you had not liked it and pushed me away after we first kissed, but  _ you  _ kissed me the second time, and we made out for a long time so I’m kind of lost. Can you maybe tell me what happened?”

He sounds so calm. That’s particularly unusual for him. He didn’t even stutter once, though I know it’s not because he learnt his lines beforehand. He was sincere. 

It makes me want to be sincere too… Maybe it will solve this situation, after all. I thought talking would make it worse, but Simon is the one who initiated a talk, so…

**…**

**Simon**

Baz’s face softens. He looks like how he did in our room between when he healed me and when we kissed. It makes my heart flutter.

He’s always gorgeous, but when his features aren’t deformed by scorn or coldness, he’s absolutely stunning. 

I can’t imagine how beautiful he would look if he had a fit of laughter. 

He leans against the table where the case of his violin is resting. 

“I didn’t hate kissing you. It was… good actually.” His cheeks turn the loveliest shade of pink. “But when I fully became aware of what we were doing, it made me panic. It’s not every day you kiss your enemy, you know?”

I giggle nervously at that. 

“Yeah… But we’re not enemies.”

Both of his eyebrows shoot up.

“Are we not?”

I shrug. “Not if it’s up to me, at least.”

He frowns for a second when I say that, but then he’s walking towards me, closing the distance between us.

I’m not sure what to expect. A kiss or a punch. We’re not in our room, without the Anathema protecting me, he can hit me if he wants.

He’s not even an arm length away when he stops in front of me.

“And what would we be, if it were up to you?”

Blood rushes to my face. I’m probably as red as I can get.

This is a trap. I tell him I’d like to be boyfriends, and he’ll take the piss out of me.

But it’s not like Baz taking the piss out of me is something particularly unusual. It would hurt if he made fun of my…  _ feelings _ , but I’m sure I can take it.

If he isn’t too cruel about it.

I look up -those fucking three inches- at him, meeting his intense grey eyes. 

“I’d be fine with whatever you want us to be,” I babble as an answer.

He shakes his head slightly.

“That’s not an answer.”

That fucking arrogant prick. With his stupid eyebrow raised and his stupid questioning eyes and his stupid smirk on his stupid  _ lips. _

“I fancy you, alright!” I blurt out. “I fancy you, and I want to be your boyfriend! Is that a fucking answer?”

Shock writes itself all over his face.

And then I realize what I said. 


	37. Chapter Thirty Seven

**Baz**

My heart stopped twice, in my 16 years of existence.

The first time when I was 5, with fangs buried deep inside my neck.

The second time, here and now, as Simon Snow told me he  _ fancies me. _

Just like kissing him the other day, this is simultaneously the best and worst thing that could happen to me. 

The boy I’m in love with has feelings for me. I should be bloody ecstatic. But all I can feel is dread.

If I say I want to be his boyfriend too… I let myself be controlled by my heart. By this unnatural desire I have for him. I risk so much. My father’s wrath if he finds out. Constant insults and rude comments at school. Disappointing my mother, wherever she is.

But if I say I don’t… I lose my only chance to ever be with him. I hurt him, hurt this boy I hate seeing sadness and pain on the face of. I condemn myself to never get back the incredible feeling that dating a boy brought me, this summer. 

And after all… we’re only in sixth year. My father wants me with a woman, sure, but it’s not like I’m going to get married and start a family here at Watford. By the time we graduate, Snow’s feelings for me will have faded -I’m no fool, they  _ will _ fade, I’m just a silly teenage crush for him- and I could secure myself a picture-perfect future with one of the girls. 

It’s the best of both worlds, really.

I get to have Simon, and I can still make my father proud. 

“You want to be my boyfriend?” 

He nods, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean yeah I’d like that. If you’re nice with me like you were last weekend  _ and  _ we get to snog… it seems pretty great to me,” he admits with a nervous laugh.

It seems  _ pretty great  _ to me too.

Before I can overthink this and change my mind, I step closer. He’s only a breath away from me. I’d just have to move my head down, and I could kiss him.

Instead, I reach out with my hand, rather shyly, and I brush his fingers. I don’t hold his hand, though. It’s too big of a step, and I’m a coward. I wouldn’t let go if he held mine, though...

His eyes go comically wide before he looks down at our hands.

He tangles them, our fingers intertwined and our palms touching.

“I’d like to be your boyfriend too.”

**…**

**Simon**

His voice is barely a whisper, but it shakes me so much it might as well have been a scream. 

I want to ask  _ ‘Really? _ ’ but that’s dumb and I don’t want to screw this up by showing any doubt. 

“Great,” I say instead, which is equally as dumb, but it’s a good summary of what I feel about this whole situation. 

It makes him snort, but not in the mean way I’m used to, so I guess it’s not so bad.

“Can I kiss you again, since you’re my boyfriend now?” I ask, already reaching up to hold the back of his neck.

He steps back as if I had burnt him even though I haven’t even touched him yet, and he lets go of my hand.

_ Merlin no. _

I can’t have ruined it already? I know I’m pretty good at ruining things, but in so little time, that would be a fucking new record, even for me.

“Not here,” he says, looking away shamefully. “But once we’re back in the room…” He takes the case of his violin. “You can do whatever you want. You don’t have to ask.”

**…**

And so the moment we step inside our room, I slam the door shut and pin Baz against it. He barely has time to put his violin down before I’m grabbing his face and pulling him into a kiss.

Five days.

He left me all alone here for  _ five days  _ after we last snogged.

I guess I have to give him five days worth of kisses. 

I press him against the door, maybe a bit too hard -but he deserves it- to close any possible distance between us. 

I feel like a wild animal in front of a prey. I crave him. It’s a strange, but heady feeling, needing to feel someone close to me that much. 

I’ve always been weird about physical contact. It’s not like I ever really received touches other than the punches and other blows the other kids inflicted on me, as a child. Then Watford came and I was already conditioned to jump when I felt a hand on me. With time, hugging Penny sometimes became easier -though it can still be uncomfortable, even now-, same as holding hands with and kissing Agatha, but that’s all.

And now all I want is to have Baz’s hands on me, wherever he wishes to put them.

Which is on my hips, apparently. He’s holding onto me, making sure I stay pressed up against him, and forcing me up a bit so that I’m on my tiptoes. That wanker can’t even be bothered craning his neck forward apparently. But it’s  _ just  _ three fucking inches, he’s being dramatic. Of course he is. It’s Baz Pitch.

But I suppose our  _ slight  _ height difference wouldn’t be a problem if we were doing this horizontally…

That seems like a good idea, so I slide my hands down to take hold of each side of Baz’s open coat, which I hurriedly take off -it falls on the floor, he’s going to complain about that- before gripping his school shirt and taking him to my bed.

I walk backwards, but I flip us around just in time to make it so that he’s lying down on the bed and I’m on top of him when we fall on it. I only let him some time to crawl up the bed and rest his head on my pillow before I capture his lips again.

**…**

**Baz**

I try to catch Snow’s scent on his pillow, but the brute is already trying to get his mouth on mine again, which is so much hotter than it has every right to be.

Snow acting like an  _ animal  _ shouldn’t turn me on like it does, but there’s something extremely arousing about knowing that I make him so hot and bothered he can’t control himself at all.

Crowley, not rejecting him today is the best choice I’ve ever made… 

**…**

**Simon**

We miss dinner.

I kiss Baz until our lips are sore and the sky is full of stars, relishing the plaintive little whines he lets out when I pull back to breathe, the soft sounds he makes into my mouth when I shift on top of him and our bodies rub against one another, the sparkles in his eyes and the hardness in his pants. 

All of our clothes stayed on, and our hands didn’t go anywhere under the belt, and yet I’m more turned on than I’ve ever been. He set a fire inside me, one that is consuming me in the most delicious of ways. 

I think that if we’d been bolder with our touches, I’d have come in my pants. It was all so overwhelming.

Now I’m just lying in bed alone, because Baz fled to the bathroom. I don’t think it’s a bad thing, though… with the sounds he was making and his ragged breath towards the end, I think he left so that _he_ wouldn’t come in his pants… 

It fills me with more pride than any successful mission for the Mage or victory against the Humdrum ever did. 

As I hear water run in the shower, I hesitate, my hand making its way to the button of my trousers on its own accord. 

I’m so close, it wouldn’t take me long to bring myself to completion, and Baz is probably going to stay in the en suite for a while… Besides it’s his fault I need to rub one out, I wouldn’t have that problem if he wasn’t so bloody hot…

I open my trousers and slip my hand under the waistband of my pants. 

**…**

**Baz**

When I come out of the bathroom, feeling lighter than ever, I pause. 

The room reeks of semen and Snow doesn’t look like someone who was left alone and frustrated by his boyfriend - _ boyfriend _ , it’s crazy to think it but fuck, do I like it. 

Aleister Crowley did he… Yes, he definitely did.

I’m gonna need to wank again if I keep thinking about it. Simon Snow, touching himself after he touched  _ me _ . 

He must have cleaned the mess, and I kind of wish he didn’t… I would have loved to lick it off his fingers.

I shake my head. No more weird thoughts for tonight, Basilton.

“What’re you waiting for?” Snow asks, as I have apparently been standing on the doorway for too long.

I pull myself back together -which is rather difficult when my brain won’t stop sending me inappropriate pictures involving myself and Simon Snow’s come- and give him a confident smile.

“An invitation, of course,” I say as I look pointedly at his bed. 

I’m not sure he’s going to accept, but I can at least  _ pretend  _ I am.

He looks surprised, but then his face breaks in a grin, so genuine and cheerful that it makes my heart melt. 

He shifts until he’s lying down against the wall, leaving some room for me, and he opens his covers,  _ clearly  _ an invitation.

“Come here, then,” he says, a smile in his voice, as if he couldn’t stop smiling. 

His joy is so bright it could light up the darkest of nights.

_ I  _ did that. This excitement. It’s caused by  _ me _ . By thoughts of being with  _ me.  _ I might faint. This is so much. Too much.

The best kind of too much.

I smile back, a silly, warm smile that’s very unlike me but that isn’t in any way fake, as I head towards his bed. 


	38. Chapter Thirty Eight

**Simon**

Because it had to happen, I fuck up.

Not even a full day into dating Baz, good fucking job Simon.

We’re kissing, slowly, the way he seems to prefer if his soft sighs and moans are anything to go by, and he has one hand in my hair while the other is stroking up and down my back, and everything is  _ fine  _ until it’s  _ not. _

It’s like when Penny and I hug. It’s great and then for no fucking reason it feels uncomfortable. 

His hold on my hair doesn’t change in the slightest, but I feel like it has tightened, and his hand on my back now feels like it’s constricting me and not just keeping me close and caressing me. 

Too close. We’re too close.

I break away and push myself up until I’m on my knees, straddling him.

I hurriedly move my leg over him and sit on the edge of the bed, so that we aren’t touching at all anymore.

There’s confusion in his eyes as he looks at me. “What’s wrong?”

He sounds just as puzzled as he looks.

“I… I’m sorry I just need some space.”

I feel ridiculous saying it. I have a devastatingly gorgeous boy right here in my bed, who wants nothing but to snog the life out of me, and I  _ need space _ .

Fucking moron.

My hands ball into fists

“You…” Baz starts. 

“You know what? Forget it,” I say, irritation in my voice, as I climb my way back over Baz, crashing our mouths together before he can say anything more.

It’s  _ stupid.  _ I like Baz, I like  _ kissing  _ Baz, I like touching Baz, and I like Baz touching me.

I  _ like it. _

There’s no fucking reason I would feel uncomfortable about it.

He isn’t going to hurt me.

Anymore.

I don’t think so.

He used to.

He hit me with those hands that are now hesitantly stroking up my arms.

Pushed me down the stairs, against walls as he walked by just to knock the air out of me, punched me.

But he isn’t going to… not anymore… he’s being careful, and his hands are soft and they feel good and… and… 

They brush my neck on their way to my hair and it feels like they’re going to choke me.

They feel suffocating.

I move away again, like a scared animal. It makes me want to scream at how fucking stupid that situation is. How fucking dumb the voice in my head is.

Baz looks really concerned this time, and a bit hurt. I hate it.

“What did I do?”

He thinks it’s his fault,  _ I hate it _ .

I shake my head. “It’s not your fault. It’s me, I’m a mess,” I say with a nervous laugh. 

Baz sits up. He doesn’t try to reach out and touch me, but he looks at me with a hint of tenderness in his eyes that could make me die on the spot.

“What is it?” he asks, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it.

“It’s just…” I start, pulling my knees up against my chest to rest my chin on them. “I’m not really used to having anyone touch me, you know? And like, it feels good when you touch me, but I… I think that when you do it for too long, it doesn’t feel good anymore. Please don’t think it’s your fault, it’s really not,” I say again, because I don’t want him to blame himself for my weirdness. 

“Are you sure I didn’t do something wrong? You can tell me if I touched you in a way you don’t like, I won’t do it again.”

I shake my head again, more vigorously. “No, no, no, I promise. You were great.” I give him a smile, and he loses his frown.

“Okay. But if I do something wrong you tell me, alright?”

He’s so mindful. I didn’t expect that. It’s not like Baz was ever caring with me.

“Yeah, of course.”

“What do you want to do, then?” be continues, still as seriously. “I can go on my bed, I mean, I’ve been squatting yours since last night, it’s probably time for me to leave you alone anyway.”

“No!” I say precipitately before he can go. It surprised him. “Please stay. Or better, what if we pushed the beds together? You could  _ technically  _ go back to your bed, but you’d still be next to me.”

A smile grows on his face as I say that. He’s breathtaking. 

“That’s a brilliant idea, Snow. Who knew you could have those.”

**…**

So we push the beds together, and we lie down, each of us on our own bed, but closer to the middle of our makeshift double bed than the edges. 

We’re not touching, but we’re near and I like that. I can see the different shades in his eyes -as it turns out, when you look closely, he had some darker grey spots in his irises- and if I moved my hand a little bit, I’d be holding his. Our pinkies are the only parts of our bodies that are touching, and it seems to be enough for him, because he’s looking at me contentedly as we chat about school -he scolds me for having foregone doing my Greek homework- and other things.

Eventually, my curiosity gets the best of me and I ask the question that has been on my lips for a while now.

“Have you ever done this before?”

“What?”

“Dated a boy.”

It’s not that I’d be jealous if he had, but I wonder if he has more experience at that whole thing than me. The only person I ever dated was Agatha, and surely dating a bloke isn’t exactly like dating a girl. 

“I have,” he answers, turning on his side to look at me without hurting his neck. “Why?”

I shrug. “Just curious. Did you date him for a long time? Or them, I guess, if you had more than one boyfriend.”

“Him. It was just one person. And we only stayed together for three weeks or so. It didn’t end for some dramatic reason, we simply both knew that we didn’t have any romantic feelings for the other and just wanted to know what it’s like, being with another boy. The kissing felt nice enough, so we stayed together until we both decided to end it.”

I hum. That seems like a bit of a weird situation, but if Baz and the bloke were both okay with it, I guess it’s fine.

“Are you two still in contact with each other or did you lose touch when you broke up?”

He chuckles softly at that. I wonder why until he opens his mouth.

“We’re still in contact. It’s Niall, Snow.”

**…**

**Baz**

A triumphant look on his face, he exclaims, “Ah! So I wasn’t completely wrong, you two  _ did  _ date!”

I roll my eyes.

He’s a moron. An adorable one, sure, but a moron.

“We did, but it was months ago, so you were  _ still  _ wrong about it when you said it.”

He gives me a very dramatic scornful look that makes me smile in spite of myself. It’s honestly laughable how much he makes me smile. The muscles in my face are going to hurt by the end of the weekend. 

“That’s what you say,” he answers. “ _ I  _ say I was right.”

He crosses his arms on his chest in a grotesque way. 

“You were not.”

“I was.”

“No, you were  _ not. _ ”

“I  _ was. _ ”

“You…”

He kisses me to shut me up. 


	39. Chapter Thirty Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! from now on I’m going to post once instead of twice a day, sorry 😅 I’ll tell you if it changes again
> 
> also, if you read my Studies series, I just posted one of the bonuses ^^

**Baz**

We practically don’t leave bed all weekend, which I’m  _ absolutely not  _ complaining about.

We don’t do much except snogging, feeling up each other’s chests and backs, some humping and a few playful bites, which I’m also not complaining about. 

We only stop kissing to eat -well, Snow eats, I argue that I’m not hungry and he lets it slide, not without casting irritated looks at me as he swallows what I brought him up from the kitchen- shower, and sleep.

And when Snow needs time for himself. 

Though I was a bit hurt the first time he pushed me away, I don’t take it personally.

Touch is hard for some people, and I doubt he was often held as a child. My own lack of hugs and  _ affection  _ in general during my childhood developed into touch starvation, but I can understand that Snow’s might have resulted in a tendency to get uncomfortable when he receives too much physical contact. 

Right now we’re in one of those moments when we aren’t all over one another, but simply lying down side by side in bed.

Snow’s stomach decides to kill the romanticism of the moment by gurgling. 

Typical.

I give him a smirk, looking at his flushing face.

“Hungry, Snow?”

“Yeah. Hush.”

I don’t blame him. It’s hours past dinner time. We should be sleeping by now, actually, we have school tomorrow, and Snow doesn’t do as well with very little sleep as I do, but he seems to want to drag the day on longer. He’s been talking more than usual.

I am, once again, not complaining. 

Besides, he was more interested in using his mouth to kiss me than to eat when I brought him his lunch, so his hunger now really isn’t surprising.

“What do you want to eat? I can offer you sandwiches, sandwiches, or maybe sandwiches if you’re in the mood for that.”

He laughs shortly. 

“Sandwiches seem great,” he answers, with a smile in his voice. “But I’m sure there’s something that could make them even better.”

He raises his hand to run it through my hair slowly. He seems to really enjoy touching my hair. Again, not complaining. 

“Oh, and what is that?” I ask, trying very hard not to simply close my eyes and lean into the touch. It’s disgusting how much even the most innocent of his caresses makes me melt. 

“My boyfriend eating those sandwiches with me,” he says and he somehow manages to sound both hesitant and sure at the same time.

I sigh. Here we go again.

“Baz, please,” he continues, his hand that isn’t in my hair sliding under the covers to rub my stomach. 

Bastard. I’m  _ so weak  _ for that. I feel like I’m going to turn into a puddle when he’s stroking my stomach like that, and he knows it. Just like I know his breathing catches when I kiss the mole behind his ear. 

“It worries me, how little you eat.”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” I guarantee. “I don’t get hungry as often as you do, that’s all.”

“Baz, you haven’t eaten all weekend. Just make a sandwich for yourself and eat it with me. Please.”

I ate on Friday, for lunch, for the exact same reason as I’m considering eating now, though Dev and Niall were the ones annoying me with food and not Snow. I don’t  _ need  _ to eat again now. 

Seeing as I don’t answer, Snow gives me his best puppy eyes. “Come on, for me. I’m just asking you to eat, it’s not like it’s an impossible feat.”

Snow’s stubbornness has definitely been sexier.

I sigh again, more heavily, as I gently move Snow’s hand away from my stomach and shake my head so that he gets the hint and lets go of my hair too. “Okay. I’ll take something for myself. Happy now?”

“Very,” he answers with a huge grin.

**…**

I come back to the room some time later with two plates, one for Snow, and one for myself. As it happens, they served roast beef for lunch so I could make him sandwiches with that. He’s going to be ecstatic. 

My own sandwich doesn’t have any meat in it. I can’t risk it. 

Now that I know for sure that Snow isn’t going to kill me for my vampirism, I don’t really care about being very cautious when it comes to hiding it from him, but I still don’t want him to see my fangs. 

Even my  _ siblings  _ have never seen my fangs, and Dev and Niall have only seen them because I got drunk out of my mind and they popped out when I had no control whatsoever on any part of my being.

Snow claps excitedly when I hand him his plate.

“Oh my god! That’s my favourite, thank you so much.”

I give him a small smile as I sit next to him, on my side of the bed. 

I lay the plate on my lap, looking down at it.

It’s only been two days. The only times when I eat this often are when I’m at home because Daphne surveys my food intake -she’s just as annoying as Dev and Niall.

“What’s in yours?” Snow asks, looking at my sandwich like it’s the strangest thing he’s ever seen.

“Avocado, tomato, lettuce, cheese and mayonnaise. Why?”

“No meat?”

“No meat. I don’t like eating meat that much.”

I do, actually. It’s delicious. Especially rare steaks, but eating meat makes me feel even more guilty than eating in general does. It makes me feel like an animal. A creature. A monster.

“Oh. Okay.”

And with that, he starts eating.

**…**

**Simon**

I don’t make a big deal out of Baz eating because I don’t want him to be annoyed by it and  _ stop  _ eating, but I do smile at him sometimes, to show him that I’m happy he’s having dinner with me. 

However, once his plate is empty -a rather long time after mine is, though I had three sandwiches and he had one- I take the risk of asking a question that has been on my mind for a while now.

“Baz, why do you eat so little?”

He looks annoyed as he pushes his plate off his lap.

“I told you, I don't get hungry often,” he says shortly.

That must be a sensitive topic for him…

Maybe I should keep pushing. 

Who am I kidding? When have I ever  _ stopped pushing _ when it comes to him.

“But even if you’re not hungry, you shouldn’t skip as many meals as you do.” Now that I’ve gotten to touch his body, I have a good idea of what it looks like. Because I very clearly felt hip bones and ribs. “You’re skinny, eating more would do you good.”

He clicks his tongue, irritated.

“I don’t  _ need  _ to eat more and I don’t  _ want  _ to eat more,” he says, that same irritation ringing in his voice.

“But  _ why _ ?”

I don’t get why anyone would want not to eat. Maybe it’s the starvation in the care homes, or maybe it’s just that I’m quite fond of food, but I never understood why anybody would  _ choose  _ to refuse food if they were offered some. 

Baz’s face turns cold. No, not cold. Blank. Emotionless. Which is even worse. 

**…**

**Baz**

_ Why? _

“Because I don’t deserve it.” I answer, the words leaving my mouth before I can even try to keep it tightly shut.

I don’t want to hear Snow talk about my eating habits all the time. I want a boyfriend not a nanny. Maybe if I tell him, he’ll finally shut up about it.

I don’t really have much about that, he isn’t  _ known  _ to shut up when I want him to, but I may be lucky this time. 

Snow’s eyes go wide in shock. 

“ _ What? _ What do you mean you don’t deserve it? Of course you do, everyone deserves to eat. It’s not even a matter of  _ deserving  _ if, everyone  _ has  _ to eat,” he says, very seriously.

His eyebrows are furrowed and his chin is jutting forward as he looks at me, his blue gaze more intense than I’ve ever seen it.

“Yeah.” I chuckle bitterly. “People do. I’m not a person. I’m a monster.”

**…**

**Simon**

Oh my god.


	40. Chapter Forty

**Simon**

I stay silent for a few seconds, trying to process what he said.

_ I’m not a person. I’m a monster. _

Why would he think that? Sure he isn’t the kindest bloke around, but calling himself a  _ monster _ ?

I lay my hand on his arm, and make my voice soft when I next speak. “Baz, Christ, no you’re not.”

He glares at me. 

“You’ve tried proving that I was one for over a year now, don’t go and change sides now.”

Oh.

So this is about his being a vampire then…

My stomach drops. I said such awful things to him about his vampirism. Whatever issue he has now because of it, I at least partly caused it with my paranoia and mistrust.

I shake my head vigorously.

“I was wrong. Do you think I’d be dating you if you were a monster?”

“You’re a brainless idiot with no survival instinct whatsoever who constantly runs into danger, it wouldn’t be beneath you to date a monster,” he answers, giving me a nasty look.

I don’t let it get to me.  _ He  _ is hurt. So he tries to hurt me.

“Well, yeah, maybe that’s true, maybe I’m idiotic enough to date a monster, but that’s  _ not  _ what’s happening here because you’re  _ not  _ a monster. You’re a lot of things. You’re mean a lot of the time, and you’re a bully, and you’re a vampire, but you’re not a monster.”

He sneers. “Vampire and monster,” he says, his hands clenching around his knees. “Those are one and the same, Snow, and you know it. Vampires are the big bad villains in stories. Bloodsucking creatures. People tremble at the thought of ever encountering one. You tried to get me expelled for it because even naive, selfless, kind-hearted Simon Snow realizes how dangerous they are.”

He sounds so angry when he says it, but not angry with me. He seems angry with himself for being a vampire. It breaks my heart.

It’s true, I’ve treated Baz badly because of the whole vampire thing, because I was scared he’d hurt someone, but that was when I thought Baz was nothing but a villain  _ and _ when I sought evidence of his presumed vampirism to have an excuse to stalk him. 

Something to explain my obsession for him… 

Now I see how wrong it all was, because of how much it obviously affected him.

I didn’t think anything I did  _ could  _ affect him. That’s another thing I was wrong about.

I was wrong about so many things when it comes to Baz, and yet I thought I knew him better than anyone else.

“Exactly! How dangerous  _ they  _ are. They, not  _ you _ . You… Have you ever drained someone?”

**…**

**Baz**

I want to say yes just to see what his reaction would be, but I also don’t want him to be any more disgusted with me than he already is, so I’m not going to lie.

“No.”

I may be a monster, I’m not  _ that  _ much of a monster. 

“Have you ever even  _ bitten  _ someone?”

“No.”

But I’ve been tempted to. So often.

He’d be appalled if he knew how often I thought about sinking my fangs in his flesh, about feeling his thick, warm blood on my tongue.

He shifts until he’s facing me, and not sitting next to me anymore, though he’s still on his side of the bed. He rests one of his hands on my knee, over mine.

“Then what’s the big deal? What I fear about vampires, what  _ everyone  _ fears about vampires, it’s being bitten by them. You’re not a threat if you don’t attack people. You’re not a  _ monster  _ if you don’t attack people. And  _ so _ , to get back to the original topic, you  _ do  _ deserve to eat, Baz.”

There’s a hint of sadness in his voice when he says that.  _ You do deserve to eat, Baz.  _ Of course he’d think that. This boy is nothing but goodness. 

I shake my head, sighing. 

“You kept following me to the Catacombs last year, you must have seen the corpses of the rats. I kill to feed the beast I am, Snow. All I do is take lives to sustain myself. I don’t deserve to have  _ food  _ wasted on me on top of that. I can do well enough without food for a few days, since blood is what I need most, so that’s what I do.”

“Baz, you literally just brought me a sandwich with meat in it. What do you think happened to that animal for me to be able to eat it? And yeah, okay, when you feed you’re killing an animal directly but in the end it’s pretty much the same. Even if your whole deal is about killing… I kill too,” he says, his voice becoming more grave. “On my missions, or when I’m fighting against the creatures the Humdrum sends my way, what do you think I do? I kill. Do you think that  _ I _ don’t deserve to eat, then?”

**…**

**Simon**

“It’s not the same thing,” he answers immediately, stubbornly.

Aleister Crowley, he’s annoying.

“You’re right, my killing is even worse than yours. You kill because you need it to survive. I kill because I’m told to, or because it’s the easiest solution,” I argue, trying not to think too hard about what I’m saying. 

My brain sort of turns off when I kill, and I’m not an overthinker so I don’t usually let myself be tormented by my actions afterwards. But now… Well I’m kind of forcing myself to see the reality of what I do, and it… hurts. 

If anything, the monster is  _ me _ . Not Baz.

I shake that thought. This is about Baz, my guilty feelings can wait. 

My little rant seems to have left him tongue-tied, probably because he doesn’t have anything to say to that that would make sense. 

So, since he isn’t saying anything, I kneel my way onto his lap, resting my forearms on his shoulders, so that we’re close but not too close. I’m not here to make out with him -not now at least…- I just… want to be close. 

I didn’t think seeing Baz Pitch troubled would trouble  _ me  _ so much. My chest hurts thinking of the things he said about himself.

“Baz,” I say softly. “All I’m saying is, you shouldn’t starve yourself. Even if you can survive on blood, it’s okay to eat. You’re not a monster, and you do deserve it. I’m… worried about you. I was even before I realized I fancy you, actually, that’s how concerning your whole skipping meals thing is. You eat so little… and you always look a bit sickly... I’m sure you’d feel much better if you ate more.”

He shrugs, looking away. There’s a vulnerability to him that makes my heart clench. 

It’s so rare to look at Baz and see a boy, just like me. Even this weekend, when I had him sighing and moaning softly underneath me, it still felt like he was something  _ more  _ than me. He’s  _ Baz Pitch _ , different from everyone, better than everyone.

But not now.

Now he’s a 16-year-old kid, with moral concerns much too big for him. 

“Do you think you could try to make an effort?” I move my hand slightly, to play with the hair at the base of his neck. It’s as silky as ever, he washed it this afternoon. “I know you won’t go from skipping most meals to eating three a day, but maybe… you could try having lunch every day? Or dinner?  _ Try,  _ Baz. Just try. I understand if it’s too hard to actually do it, but you could work on that, maybe?”

There’s a long, excruciatingly long silence, during which I expect Baz to push me off his lap and tell me to fuck off. 

That’s not what he does.

Instead, he kisses the part of my arm his lips can reach. “I can try. But… don’t have too high expectations. I haven’t eaten a meal a day in a year,” he says with a nervous, breathy laugh.

I stroke his hair more softly, making him close his eyes as I lean in to kiss him just over his ear.

“It’s okay. I just want  _ you  _ to be okay.”


	41. Chapter Forty One

**Simon**

I knew Monday morning would be weird from the start. The beginning of the school week was inevitably going to burst our wonderful little bubble and bring us back to reality.

I thought I would come down gently, though. Instead, coming back to the real world feels like being pushed off a cliff -which I know more about than one would think. 

First of all, I wake up alone, which shouldn’t feel as strange as it does considering I’ve  _ always  _ woken up alone except on Saturday and Sunday morning, but it’s particularly weird because Baz has never been up before me on a school day. 

I suppose he didn’t want to see me this morning…

It’s an assumption that hurts, so I ignore it. Maybe he was just nervous. We have a test this afternoon, and he’s a psycho with schoolwork. Or maybe he’s nervous because he thinks I want us to be public about our relationship, that’s more likely.

That anxiety would be understandable… though I wouldn’t ask him for that if he wasn’t ready for it.

Personally I don’t care. I know the risks, I know that a lot of people would be awful to us if we were to publically be boyfriends, but Baz has been mean to me for years so I’m sure I can handle whatever someone else may say. Besides the only opinions I care about are Penny’s, Agatha’s, and the Mage’s, and I know Penny and Aggie should be fine with Baz and I dating. The Mage is another story, but well, it’s not like I’m going to have to deal with that anytime soon since Baz seems to want everything  _ but  _ to openly date me. 

Which he’s proving right now…

I sigh, and get myself out of bed. With a little bit of luck, he’s in the dining hall for breakfast and I’ll be able to look at him from my own table.

**…**

He’s in the dining hall, and it makes me fall from that fucking cliff even faster. I hit the ground hard, bone crushing and blood splattering. 

Because he’s there flirting with those girls just like he was last week. He’s also avoiding my gaze, just like he was last week.

It’s driving me mad, just like it did last week, except that now I have an  _ actual  _ reason to be mad.

He’s  _ my  _ boyfriend, he shouldn’t be flirting with anyone else. 

“Are you okay, Si?” Penny asks, snapping me out of my reverie.

“Yeah,” I answer between gritted teeth.

She shakes her head in disbelief. “Clearly, you’re not. What’s wrong? And for the love of magic, stop looking at Baz for  _ five seconds _ .”

My hands ball into fists at the mention of his name. That bastard.

“Oh, so it has to do with Baz,” she comments, a hint of amusement in her voice. She used to be annoyed when we talked about Baz, but she finds it  _ hilarious  _ that I have a crush on him. She’s a traitor. “What has he done this time?”

“Can’t tell you now,” I answer, because it’s the truth. There’s always a risk of eavesdropping when we’re in the dining room, and my dating Baz is pretty much the last thing I can talk about somewhere where I can be overheard. 

She cocks one of her eyebrows. “Do you want to go talk about it somewhere else before class?”

I glance at Baz one more time. He’s leaning against the back of his chair in a relaxed way, chatting lightly with some bit…  _ girl _ who’s standing up next to him. She looks absolutely bewitched by him, and it makes my blood boil.

I  _ know  _ why she’s looking at him like that. He’s hot as fuck. But he’s  _ my  _ hot boyfriend. 

The air around is reeks of smoke. I take a deep breath, and try to calm down before Penny can ask me to.

“No, I don’t want to talk about it,” I answer, my throat feeling a little dry.

There’s no point telling Penny I’m with Baz if it doesn’t last...

**…**

**Baz**

Snow looks so upset all day. It hurts to look at him when he’s like that, especially when I know I’m the reason why he’s upset, but I can’t simply go to him and reassure him.

I can’t drop the act either.

I can’t seem suspicious, and I would be if I suddenly stopped flirting with the girls…

That’s what I’m going to try to explain to him tonight, when we’ll both be back in our room.

**…**

Things don’t exactly go as planned.

I walk up the stairs to the top of the tower, rehearsing what I’m going to tell Snow so that I won’t fuck it up, but when I open the door, he isn’t sitting on our bed, doing homework or whatever it is that Snow might be up to after dinner. No, instead he’s sitting on the floor in front of my open closet, looking down at something he’s holding in his hand…

The pin.

It’s that fucking pin he’s holding. Aleister Crowley, I should have left that thing home. Or even better, I should have never accepted it when Niall gave it to me.

“What are you doing with that?” I ask in a flat voice as I put my bag down.

He quickly cranes his neck to look at me. I walk up to him, and only stop when I’m standing next to him. 

His gaze flick between my face and the pin, until it eventually stops on me.

“Why do you hide it?” he asks with a strange edge to his voice.

Not that I don’t understand  _ why  _ he seems troubled. 

I take a breath a bit deeper than the others, and answer calmly. “Because it has no business being out of my closet. I can’t wear it at school, it’s better kept inside the room.”

Snow’s hold on the pin tightens as he smiles bitterly. 

“Are you really this scared of the other students seeing it?”

It’s not even that I’m  _ scared _ . 

I’m terrified

Paralyzed at the thought that anyone might see it.

My gaze drops to the floor. I’m not brave enough to hold Simon’s. His eyes are too intense, and I’m too ashamed of my weakness.

“Yes. Yes, I am. I’m sorry,” I add, so low that he probably barely heard it.

I see Snow shift, and hear the little sounds his clothes make as he moves to stand up. I keep my eyes down.

He holds his and out, right in the middle of my field of vision, exposing the small piece of colourfully painted metal. I raise my hand to grab it, but he closes his own hand around it before I can, which finally makes me look up, with a frown on my face.

“Since you’re just going to let it gather dust in your closet,” Snow starts, his voice sure. “Can I have it?  _ I  _ would wear it.”


	42. Chapter Forty Two

**Baz**

I don’t understand why Snow would want the pin.

He knows that being out isn’t fun, he said it himself, he’s seen how people treat Niall, and it’s not like  _ this  _ is something to flaunt either. It’s not like it’s something to be proud of. 

Not at Watford, at least…

I don’t know what he’s trying to prove by saying he’ll wear it, but whatever it is, it’s stupid. All he’ll get is nasty looks and insults.

But I suppose that if he does go through this, he’ll realize that the closet is the safest place for that stupid pin to be. Snow has always seemed to learn things the hard way, after all.

“You can keep it if you want, but don’t be surprised if it causes you trouble.”

“I don’t care about trouble,” he answers with cold eyes. “I care about being true to myself and not hiding that truth. I’m not…”

He stops abruptly, closing his eyes to take a deep breath. 

For  _ Simon Snow  _ to manage to shut his mouth and control what he was going to say, it must be something really bad. I could let it slide. I  _ should  _ let it slide. It’s the best thing to do.

But old habits die hard and picking fights with Snow is practically part of my daily routine by now. 

“You’re not what?” I ask, matching his coldness.

Instead of answering, he slowly stands back up, and slips the pin inside his pocket before looking back at me.

“I’m not a coward.”

I should have let it slide.

**…**

**Simon**

All emotions are washed away from Baz’s face, and the grey of his eyes is like the sharp silver of a blade. He looks just like he always did before this weekend. He looks like a boy I want to punch, not kiss. 

“So you think  _ I’m  _ a coward, then?” he says with a drawling voice. 

“I didn’t say that,” I answer, clenching my jaw. 

And I don’t  _ think  _ that. I’m not particularly happy about it, but I don’t think it’s cowardly of him not to want people at school to know. It’s not  _ that  _ I have a problem with, and I wish he’d let me speak my mind but he’s already talking.

“But you think I am. You think I’m weak because I don’t want it to be out. You think that you’re  _ so much better _ than me because you don’t care if people know you’re gay. You think you can judge me for wanting to stay in the closet.”

As he speaks, he steps closer and closer to me, until he’s only a breath away. I have half a mind to wrap my arms around him and tell him to forget it, letting both my and his anger decrease as we hold each other, but he’s not done, and there’s no stopping him when he’s like this. I don’t think even a kiss would shut him up…

“But you don’t know what it’s like. You think it’s so  _ easy.  _ And it probably would be, for you. You’re tough, you can take the insults the other kids may throw your way, and you have no one to disappoint. The closest thing to a father you have is the Mage and I’m sure he wouldn’t care if you’re gay, as long as you can still kill things for him. You don’t know, you  _ never  _ will know what it’s like to stand in front of your father, to look into his eyes and see all the love he may once have had for you turn into pure disgust as you come out to him. You don’t know what it’s like to be told by your father that if you don’t grow out of that phase he’ll no longer have a son. You don’t know that my right to be part of my father’s family, to get to see my siblings grow up relies entirely on my ability to keep my sexuality a secret from the rest of the World of Mages, because if people knew, I would lose all my chances to ever have a wife, and my father will only stay in my life if I marry a woman and have an heir. You don’t know what the stakes are for me,  _ you don’t know what it’s like _ ,” he finishes, anger and pain alike ringing in his voice, making it tremble. 

His face is blank, but his eyes are full of tears and it brings tears to my own eyes, though not as much as his words do. 

I had a feeling his family weren’t exactly accepting of his sexuality, but I didn’t think it was that bad. 

I venture to hold his hand, expecting rejection, but against all odds, he lets me, closing his eyes when our palms meet. I then raise my other hand, laying it carefully on his cheek. He leans into the touch. 

“I’m sorry,” I say, softening my voice. “You’re right, I don’t know what it’s like. I  _ can’t  _ know what it’s like, and I’d like you to stop bringing that up, by the way, I know I’m an orphan, I don’t need to be reminded. It kind of hurts,” I laugh nervously as I say that, and I think I hear him whisper a faint ‘ _ sorry _ ’, though his lips barely moved so I can’t be sure. “Anyway. I can understand if you don’t want to be out at school. I mean, it sucks that I can’t tell the whole world that you’re my boyfriend, but ultimately I don’t care. If it’s safer for you… then so be it. What upsets me is, it’s not that you hide that you’re gay. It’s that you do so by  _ actively  _ pretending that you’re straight. I… I’m sure there are other ways to keep people thinking you’re attracted to girls than by flirting with dozens of them, you know? I’m your boyfriend but  _ they  _ get smiles and kind words from you in public while you avoid me. It makes me angry… and sad,” I admit. 

He squeezes my hand, and opens his eyes to stare into mine. 

“It wasn’t my intention. I should have talked to you about it beforehand, but I can’t just drop the act like that, it would be too suspicious.”

Does that mean he’s going to continue flirting with the girls? 

I guess if I’m warned it’s alright… I know he isn’t interested in them, but…

But  _ no _ , it’s not alright.

“So what? You’re going to continue?” I ask, sounding more resigned than angry.

“Not for long,” he says, taking my hand in between both of his. “I promise. Actually, I took some time to think about it today, and… I have a plan. I would only have to keep doing this until Saturday, and then I would stop flirting with anyone. Well, anyone but you of course,” he adds with a smirk.

His words lift a weight off my shoulders.

Four days. 

I can handle this for four more days. 

“Why until Saturday, though?”

He gives me an enigmatic smile that makes my heart race in my chest, before leaning in to kiss my temple, as close as he can get to my ear. “You’ll see.”


	43. Chapter Forty Three

**Simon**

If Baz wants people to think he’s straight, I don’t.

I don’t even know why I have this desire to make it known, it’s my business who I’m attracted to, but I  _ do  _ want to make it known. 

Maybe it’s to see how justified Baz’s fear to come out is. Maybe it’s so that maybe  _ he  _ will have the courage to leave the closet. 

Maybe it’s because this is something I get to control, for once, and I don’t want to risk being forced out of the closet when I could  _ finally  _ make a decision for myself.

Maybe it’s simply because I don’t care about people knowing, and I’d rather show who I am than hide it.

Which is why I’m currently attaching Baz’s pin to my schoolbag, the colours popping out on the black fabric. 

I considered putting it on my pencil case, like Niall did with his pin, but half of the times my pens are out of my pencil case so it rarely ever leaves the inside of my bag, and I didn’t take Baz’s pin to let it gather dust in my bag like it did inside his closet. 

He’s looking at me as I throw my bag on my shoulder, serious, as he sits on our bed.

He looks like a child, with his knees pulled up to his chest and his chin on his knees. You’d think he’s the one who’s going to out himself. 

“Are you sure about this, Snow?” he asks, with a hint of worry I know he’s trying to conceal in his voice. 

I nod decidedly. “Yes. What’s the worst thing that can happen, anyway? You’re the only one at school who isn’t too scared of my magic to risk getting physical with me,” I joke.

Though it’s not really a joke. Baz  _ is  _ indeed the only person who would dare throw punches at me. The others… well they might call me names but it shouldn’t go further than that, and even if it does… I know how to use my fists too. 

I’ve been called so many names and been hit so many times… it doesn’t affect me anymore. Not when it comes from strangers, people I barely know. 

“Besides you should be grateful,” I continue, still with that sarcastic tone in my voice. “They might stop annoying your friend Niall if they have a new target.”

My words don’t get me the reaction I thought they would. Baz’s expression darkens.

“Because you think I’d feel any better seeing people insult my boyfriend than I do when they insult my best friend?”

My heart melts. I honestly didn’t think Baz would be bothered by this. Baz rarely seems bothered by anything. I give him a warm smile, as I walk to close the distance between us. He’s sitting close enough to the edge of the bed that I don’t need to climb on it to thread my hand through his hair and make him turn his head towards me.

I want to kiss him. We haven’t kissed at all yesterday, since he fled the room in the morning and I was too pissed at night to want to snog him.

I kiss him. Just a peck on the lips, but it’s enough to make him smile faintly. 

“You’re a softie deep down, aren’t you?” I tease him when I pull back.

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t want you to be hurt, that’s all. Honestly, it won’t bring anything positive to you. You should just stay in the closet.” He laughs nervously. “It’s safe in there. Besides, you’ve barely figured it out, for all you know, you might just have been shaken by your breakup with Wellbelove and you think that you’re attracted to me, attracted to  _ men  _ when you’re actually straight.”

**…**

**Baz**

I sound like my father.

**…**

**Simon**

His words anger me a little, but I try to stay calm. For whatever reason, Baz keeps doubting my feelings for him, even though I’ve told him I fancy him and showed him just how much I fancy him all weekend, and I’m pretty sure than getting mad won’t make things any better. So instead, I bring our faces closer again, though I don’t kiss him. I let my lips hover a breath away from his, and I speak. 

“I want to do dirty things to you every time I lay my eyes on you, Baz. Things I’ve never wanted to do to Aggie, or any girl, for that matter. I’m pretty sure I  _ am _ attracted to you.”

“Why don’t you then?” he answers, a rasp to his voice that makes me weak in the knees.

“Why don’t I what?” I ask, blood rushing to my cheeks.

He raises his hand to lay it on the back of my neck, not quite grabbing it but most definitely holding me in place.

“Do dirty things to me?”

**…**

**Baz**

I most certainly would  _ not _ be opposed… 

His pupils go wide, so wide, black replacing blue in his eyes. I guess he  _ is  _ attracted to me.

His mouth hangs open, and I have to use all of my self control not to slip my tongue inside of it and kiss him senseless, messing up his shirt, making his lips red and swollen, and maybe even causing his trousers to be too tight if I really put my mind to it.

But I don’t do any of that, because he shakes his head slightly, cheeks flushed. “I gotta go. I… Uh. Class. I have class. See you later,” he babbles, moving away from me, his face becoming redder and redder.

He almost trips on his own foot as he heads out.

Typical.

**…**

**Simon**

I still have this warm, bubbly feeling in my chest Baz caused with his flirting when I arrive near the Greek classroom. Baz, that bastard, is taking  _ advanced  _ Greek classes because he’s  _ obviously _ so  _ talented  _ and  _ smart  _ that he knew everything I’m learning when he was probably 6 or something, so he doesn’t have class with me, which is a pity. 

Or maybe not. It would have been even harder to stop thinking about him if he was in the same room as me.

_ Why don’t you, then? Do dirty things to me? _

Mate, because I’ve dated you for four days and that doesn’t seem very gentlemanly to try to touch your dick already.

Aleister Crowley, touching Baz’s dick.

I close my eyes, groaning as I knock my head against the wall, hoping the hard, cold stone will shake these ideas out of my head. I have class, for fuck’s sake. 

What would it be like though? Touching him like that? Is jerking another bloke off very different from jerking  _ yourself  _ off? Would he let me touch his butt? Baz has a very nice butt…

_ Simon, _ **_class_ ** .

Deep breaths.

Think of the Minotaur, that’s gonna make you chill really quickly.

I cringe, but unsurprisingly, it works. 

“Hey, Simon, what’s that on your bag?”

I jump, moving away from the wall and looking around to find the source of the voice. Jordan I-forgot-his-last-name. I only remember his first name because he’s in the football team with Baz and when I went to their practices, he often got yelled at by the Coach for getting distracted or not being serious enough about what he was doing.

Pretty much all the boys in the football teams are jerks, but I don’t think he’s one of the worst ones. Matthew Gardner, the goalkeeper, is. Baz almost got into a fight with him once. 

Looking back, it was pretty hot, how he looked seconds away from punching that bloke.

_ No. The Minotaur, Simon. _

I shrug, looking at Jordan.

“‘s kind of obvious what it is,” I answer, because it is.

If  _ I  _ knew what that flag meant, surely everyone else at school also knows.

“So what, the Chosen One’s gay now?” he asks, with a hint of something in his voice that I don’t quite identify, but it doesn’t seem threatening. 

I try to act cool and unbothered, like Baz, simply walking towards my classroom. It’s on the other end of the corridor, and I have to walk past Jordan to get there.

“Problem with that?” I ask when I do walk past him.

I don’t expect a hand to grab my arm or push me against the wall, and I’m right not to because it doesn’t happen. 

What happens, though, is that Jordan starts walking next to me, glancing at me weirdly, but not in a ‘I want to beat you up so bad’ way.

“Not in the slightest,” he answers with a smirk, and in a warm voice. “I’m just surprised, you don’t see many gay blokes around here. It can be so hard to find someone to have a good time with…”

He eyes me again, walking a tiny bit closer to me and…

Oh.

Damn, how many gay people are there in the football in the team? 

I laugh uncomfortably, stepping aside so that he isn’t so close to me anymore.

We’re only a few steps away from the classroom.

“Yeah, well, I’m not interested in  _ having a good time _ ,” I answer, as politely as I can, still feeling his burning gaze on me.

“You sure about that?” he says, stepping closer  _ again. _

Crowley, hasn’t he heard of personal space?

It’s starting to smell of smoke around us, but he doesn’t seem to mind as his eyes travel on my

body, in a way that makes me feel like I’m a piece of meat.

Is that how it’s like for girls? 

I ignore him, and simply speed up the pace of my steps to reach the classroom. Once I’m inside, he has no choice but to leave me alone. He is in 7th year, we don’t have class together.

I’ve never been so bloody relieved to be in Greek. I could kiss the Minotaur. 


	44. Chapter Forty Four

**Simon**

As I walk back to my room, I’m pissed. I hope Baz is here because I could really use a hug right now.

Today was… not great.

No one bullied me about the pin, contrary to what Baz thought but I heard  _ ‘You’re gay?’  _ at least two hundred times and I’m getting sick of it. I considered asking Agatha to give me one of her millions of markers to write ‘Yes, I’m gay’ on my bloody bag by lunchtime.

_ Lunchtime,  _ while we’re at it.

Awful too, but because of Baz this time.

He flirted with girls, which I knew he would do, but the knowledge that it was going to happen wasn’t enough to prevent me from being annoyed by it. I want him to look at  _ me  _ with those playful eyes, to give  _ me  _ those soft smiles, to touch  _ my  _ hair. But that’s not possible. Not outside of the room. 

And,  _ I get it _ , Baz feels unsafe coming out, but it’s kind of a bummer. It makes me feel like shit, honestly. 

I can’t wait for next week, when he’ll stop flirting with people after he does whatever it is that that scheming bastard has plotted for Saturday. 

But that’s not the  _ only  _ thing Baz did today that pissed me off. He also didn’t eat a thing, neither for breakfast, nor for lunch or dinner. And once again,  _ I get it _ , it might be hard for him to eat, but he said he’d try and he didn’t look like he was trying at all today.

And the fact that he partly caused my current state of irritation  _ also  _ pisses me off because despite that I want nothing but to cuddle up to him. I discovered this weekend that Baz Pitch gives magical hugs. When my face is buried in the crook of his neck, his smell surrounding me, and that he holds me, not kissing me or trying to get his hands under my shirt, just  _ holding _ me, a warm feeling spreads in my chest, and through my entire body. It’s intoxicating. It makes my muscles relax and my eyes close. It makes me want to stay in between his arms forever.

Well.

Not exactly  _ forever _ .

But at least until the next time my brain decides to ruin things by making me uncomfortable with his touch.

That’s another problem that I don’t want to think about right now. I’m frustrated enough as it is.

To top it all off, I got a note from the Mage after dinner saying he wanted to see me, and he spent a solid half hour lecturing about how he didn’t care what I did in private but that it should have remained  _ private _ and blah blah blah. I mean, at least he said he didn’t care.

Though that’s quite fitting for him.  _ Not caring.  _

I throw my bag down on the floor when I walk in the room, making Baz turn his head. He’s sitting at his desk, very properly with his back straight and his legs crossed elegantly at the knees, writing something. Most likely homework.

Maybe I shouldn’t bother him, then. 

I can always go take a shower. Hot showers feel like a hug. Or at least, they did in the care homes when I was sorrowful and lonely and would have taken any bit of comfort I could. 

As I’m taking my shoes off, he puts his pen back inside his pencil case. 

As I was about to head to the bathroom, he stands up.

**…**

**Baz**

Snow looks miserable.

This isn’t the first time I see him coming back to the room with a dark look on his face and his shoulders low, as if burdened by an invisible weight, but this is the first time I can do what I’ve always wanted to do in these situations.

Be there for him.

I walk towards him as I ask, “How did your day go?”, even though it’s not hard to guess that it didn’t go well.

I told him it was a bad idea, but stubborn as he is, he had to attach the damned pin to his bag.

And then he just… crumbles.

His shoulders drop even more, and every step he makes in my direction seems to cost him. I quickly close the distance between us, pulling him against my chest. He closes his arms around my waist and collapses on me. Thank Merlin I have vampire strength, we would have fallen on the floor otherwise.

As gently as I can, I take us to the bed, awkwardly making us lay on it as I rub Simon’s back soothingly.

“Not a good day?” I whisper in his curls.

He shakes his head. “‘s not because I’m gay,” he mumbles, his voice muffled by my shoulder. “It’s other things.”

“What things?” I ask, confused. When I looked his way at dinner time he didn’t look this defeated. 

“ _ You _ ,” he says, while also cuddling up to me more, which doesn’t make sense to me, in all honesty.

I kiss his hair.

“Is it because of the girls? I’m sorry Snow, but I told you that I would have to keep this farce going for a few more days.”

“I  _ know _ . But I still don’t like it. When I see you with them it makes me want to run to you and kiss the life out of you so that everyone knows you’re  _ my  _ boyfriend. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t actually do it, but it’s so frustrating. Besides it’s not just that. You didn’t eat today.”

I let out a heavy sigh. I was expecting him to have surveyed what I ate. Or in this case, what I did  _ not  _ eat.

Stalker.

“I wasn’t hungry. I’ll eat tomorrow. I was going to eat tomorrow anyway, I have practice. I told you I was going to make efforts, Snow, and I’m going to, but it’s harder than you think, and I would appreciate it if you could refrain from keeping me under surveillance. Letting me now that you’re angry with me for not eating isn’t the motivation you think it is,” I say, my voice a pitch colder than it has been when I was talking with Snow recently.

His hand clenches around my blazer.

“No, Baz, I’m… It’s not…” He pauses to groan in frustration. “I’m not angry with you. I’m just… it’s been a shit day, alright? I didn’t want to make you feel bad.”

I simply hum in acknowledgement.

Snow doesn’t seem to want to add anything, so I let myself hold him, relishing the weight of his strong body, half on top of mine, the way his breath brushes my neck, tickling me, the smell of his blood, as strong as always, and the faint, lingering scent of his soap on his skin, though since his morning showing, it has worn off. 

We hug for some time, before I ask the question that has been on my mind since he left the room this morning.

“Having that pin on your bag really didn’t cause you any trouble?”

I simply can’t believe it. Niall gets nasty comments all the time, and he is nobody. Snow… he’s the  _ Chosen One _ . People always have more to say when it comes to ‘celebrities’. I would know. The Pitches aren’t exactly the less renowned family in the World of Mages.

“Well I got asked if I was gay approximately every five second when I wasn’t in class, and sometimes even when I was in class, which was  _ really  _ annoying. I put a gay pride flag thingie on my bag, I’ve made it obvious enough, why do they feel compelled to  _ ask. _ ” 

He groans another time, which is a sound I should definitely find more repulsive than I do, but my sick brain makes me imagine Snow groaning in a widely different context… preferably as he is naked between my thighs… 

_ Aleister Crowley, Baz. _

Thankfully, he starts speaking again, so I focus on that and not those  _ thoughts. _

“Oh, and I got hit on too,” he adds, sounding particularly irritated by that.

He what?

“Hit on? Did a straight girl think she could make you normal again?” I scoff.

_ Always blame it on the straight girls. _

“What? No! A  _ bloke _ hit on me, Baz.”

I stiffen, which makes him move his head back enough to look at me.

I know I have no right to be jealous. I don’t want our relationship to be public, and just today I sweet talked a dozen girls.

But still. The thought that another man already tried to seduce Snow, on his  _ first  _ day of being out… it makes my blood boil.

How many others are going to hit on him?

How many others that are  _ much  _ better options than I am?

“In case you’re getting ideas, I did  _ not  _ like it,” he says, as he cringes, his nose scrunching up in an adorable way. “It made me feel rather uncomfortable, actually. That guy… we didn’t even know each other and he was trying to get in my pants. I mean, that’s weird, right? Why would you want to sleep with someone you don’t know.”

I think of this summer, of a hot night at a bar with my aunt drunk out of her mind. Of being bought a drink and given compliments. Of the faded leather on the backseat of an old car and a deep voice in my ear. Of the itchy feeling of a beard against my chin and cheek and the burning feeling of too little lube. Of a name I didn’t ask for and a face I never saw very clearly, neither under the harsh neon light of the bar or the moonlit parking lot.

I give Simon a smile that I hope doesn’t show any of my uneasiness. “Maybe it’s a bit weird to you, but that’s what some people are after.”


	45. Chapter Forty Five

**Simon**

If Monday and Tuesday sucked, Wednesday is absolutely  _ wonderful.  _ Firstly, it’s the day when I have the least classes, which is really great because I always get to spend two hours with Penny before dinner instead of just seeing her  _ at _ dinner. 

But today it’s a particularly good day because when I come back to the room after dinner, I see that Baz is here, in his  _ football kit.  _ And here I wondered why he and Dev weren’t in the dining hall… they probably stayed on the pitch to kick a ball around together, without their annoying teammates.

If that -Baz playing football longer than the hour his practice lasts- isn’t unusual, the fact that he didn’t shower and change in the changing rooms  _ is  _ unusual. 

A rather enjoyable kind of unusual.

He looks really fucking hot in that footbal kit. Christ, how did I not know I was gay before, I’ve been ogling him for  _ years. _

Well maybe not  _ years. _

Actually, yes, years.

I think I started noticing how short Baz’s football shorts were and looking at the skin he exposed when he lifted his shirt to wipe his face some time during fourth year. Maybe even third. 

It’s crazy how it all seems so much clearer now that I’ve realized that I fancy him.

My desire to be around him and all times, that wasn’t entirely motivated by the fear that he was plotting something.

My tendency to show off in front of him by practicing my swordsmanship in the room and seeking his gaze in the dining hall when I come back from a mission and go there before going to the infirmary -food and Baz are higher on the list of my priorities than good health, alright?- that was not only caused by an urge to show him  _ I  _ was good at things too,  _ better  _ than him at certain things, even.

The strong feelings I have for him, knocking the wind out of me with their intensity sometimes. Feelings I thought were nothing but hatred and anger.

It all  _ makes sense  _ now.

“Snow?” 

His voice anchors me back to reality.

“Hi,” I say with a smile as I drop my school bag on the floor. “You look nice.”

He looks  _ more  _ than nice.

Christ, if his butt looks great in the trousers of our school uniform, it’s nothing compared to how it looks in his football kit. I -sadly- can’t see it right now because he is sitting on the bed, and I kind of wish he was lying down on his stomach, honestly.

But I wouldn’t see his face as well as I do now, so it’s not so bad.

“I’m wearing dirty sports clothes,” he says, raising an eyebrow, as if that was some sort of argument.

As if the dirty sports clothes made him  _ less  _ sexy and not _ more _ . 

“So?” I answer, trying to match his tone and to raise an eyebrow like him.

I fail.

I never managed to do that. I practiced in front of the mirror. 

Baz laughs shortly, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.” He reaches out with his hand, pushing aside the textbook he was studying. “Come here you moron.”

I don’t hesitate to take him up on his offer, quickly kicking my shoes off -which makes him mutter that I’m a barbarian- before walking up to the bed. 

I expect him to lie down, so that I can climb on all fours on top of him -I love kissing like that. I stay far enough from him that he has to reach up or pull me down if he wants to kiss me. He always does- or at least to extend his legs instead of keeping them bent so that I can straddle his lap, but he doesn’t.

He stays just the way he is, half sitting, half lying down, only spreading his legs when I’m close enough, a clear invitation for me to lay between them. I do.

Our chests are pressed together, because in this position, we’re not laying enough that I can use the mattress to hold myself up, but we’re not sitting straight enough that I can just be on my knees. It would be an uncomfortable pose for him to hold if his back wasn’t supported by both of our pillows.

Since I don’t need my hands, I wind them around his neck, resting my head on his shoulder, and I try not to think about the fact that our chests aren’t the only parts of our bodies that are rubbing against each other and that his legs are on either side of me. Those strong footballer legs.

His thighs are to die for.

He doesn’t make not having dirty thoughts easy though, because he’s whispering, “I didn’t shower immediately as I came back because I thought you might like to see me in my football kit. I noticed you watching me last Sunday, though I didn’t know why at the time.”, his lips lost in my hair.

I blush. “I told you, you look nice.”

“Nice?” he says, chuckling. “Is that all you have to say? Don’t you have any better compliments.”

Narcissistic prick, here’s a compliment for you.

I don’t say that. Whatever we have going on, with Baz’s hand softly stroking my shoulders and his face buried in my curls, I don’t want it to end. 

“You’re hot as hell, Baz, is that what you want to hear?”

He laughs frankly this time, and it vibrated in my entire body. It’s such a lovely sound. I wish I could record it, to be able to listen to it over and over again. Keep it with me at all times.

I suppose the best I can do is try to save it in my memory. 

“That’s better,” he says, still laughing a little.

He slides his hand in my hair to force my head back. I get the hint, and crawl up his body to kiss him.

Quickly, the kisses become more and more heated, with hands tugging shirts out of trousers and hands snaking up backs. Hands tightening around hair and hands gripping hips. 

Hips rocking and hips thrusting up.

The first time I feel how hard Baz is, it’s an electric shock. It’s not the first time it ever happens, but it doesn’t make it any less exhilarating. 

I have a tingly feeling in my hands that I feel would only stop if I let them head south. 

But I can’t do that. It’s too soon. It hasn’t even been a week, and Baz seems to be quite skilled when it comes to getting stupid ideas into his head. I don’t want him to think I lied about fancying him just because I wanted to get in his pants.

But  _ fuck  _ do I want to get in his pants. 

I want to touch him so much. All of him. The parts of him I’ve never seen. I want to know how different his cock feels from mine. If it’s as cold as the rest of him. I want to touch his arse, see if it’s as firm as it looks. 

I want  _ so much  _ and it feels so… disrespectful to want this much, this early. I don’t want to disrespect him. 

My hands get too close to the waistband of his shorts and I snap out of it, pushing myself off of him until I’m sitting back on my heels, still between his legs.

The way his shorts look around his erection is almost obscene. I force my eyes up, to his inexpressive face.

“Too much?” he asks, with a hint of something I can’t identify in his voice.

“Yeah, sorry,” I mumble, looking away as I make my way out of bed. 

I have to get away. To cool down. To make my thoughts about Baz  _ normal  _ again.

I should think about how soft his lips are, how silky his hair feels when I run my hand through it, how much I love his voice. About how happy I feel when we cuddle after turning the lights off to sleep, about how much his beautiful smiles warm my heart. 

Not about how his dick would feel in my hand and how much I want to see him naked. 

“Don’t apologize,” is the last thing I hear from him before I close the bathroom door. 


	46. Chapter Forty Six

**Simon**

I’m starting to understand why Baz doesn’t want to come out. If no one insulted me to my face, I heard whispers about my being gay -notably, the slur I’m sure Baz was afraid they’d use against me-, and my pin received a few nasty looks. But it’s alright. I don’t care.

Baz would care, though. He’s more fragile than he looks, that bloke. I’ve been around him a few times when people called his friend Niall bad things. He looked so affected already, and it wasn’t even being told to him. I can’t imagine how much it would hurt him if it was, and I don’t want him to be hurt. I’d rather be bothered by the fact that I can’t be his boyfriend outside of our room than see him suffer because of all those dumb homophobes.

**…**

**Baz**

I’m nervous.

This is a carefully crafted plan, it should all go well, but I still have a lump in my throat as I look at Simon on my way out of the room.

He gives me a small, but sincere smile that doesn’t ease my discomfort in any way. 

“Who did you get this well dressed for?” he asks, the homework he’s supposed to be doing completely forgotten. 

Since he missed class last week, the teachers gave him more homework than they did to the rest of us -which is completely unfair and unjustified since he did all of the work he missed- so he has quite a lot to do. 

Since he’s Simon Snow, it’s going to take a while.

I would have offered to help him, it would have saved time _and_ been an excuse to be with him, but I can’t carry out my plan if I stay here in the room. 

I have someone to meet in town…

“Myself, of course,” I say arrogantly, before slipping back into a more natural attitude. A more _flirty_ attitude, really. If I’m going to leave, I can at least rile Snow up before I do. “ _And_ for my _poor_ boyfriend who is buried in schoolwork so he won’t even get to enjoy it.”

I give him a wink, and something burns in his eyes, but he doesn’t move from where he is.

He probably knows he won’t be able to stop himself if he crawls up to me and starts kissing me.

I know I won’t push him away if he does -I’m not the one who does the pushing away...

But we both have things to do.

“I guess I’ll have to corner you before you can shower tonight, then,” he answers, mischief in his blue gaze.

“I would love that.”

**…**

For the moment, everything is fine.

I’m with Dev and Niall, drinking beer that we shouldn’t even have been able to buy, and probably _wouldn’t_ have been able to buy if Watford students didn’t represent the wide majority of the customers the bar got from Friday to Sunday night. The owner would lose tons of money if he controlled who is of legal age to be sold alcohol and who is not, so he doesn’t, which brings even _more_ customers. It’s brilliant, really. Illegal, but brilliant. 

I wonder if Snow likes beer. 

I wonder if Snow has _tried_ beer. He doesn’t have an aunt Fi to give him alcohol before he’s 18, and I doubt a single bottle of beer has seen the fancy interior of the Wellbeloves’ house. Maybe in those care homes he stays at in the summer, but he said the other kids don’t like him much so I don’t think they’d share their alcohol with him, if they managed to sneak it in the home in the first place. 

I have the foolish thought that I should take him here someday, and I promptly chase it. Snow and I couldn’t go anywhere together. I can’t be seen alone with a boy, and it would be suspicious anyway. We’re supposed to hate one another. 

Relaxed dates at the bar, drinking beers and laughing together, casting each other amorous glances from times to times… it’s not something that we get to have.

Contrary to the girl and the boy on the table right next to mine. The girl whispered “I love you” to her boyfriend between two sips of a beer that left her with a thin line of foam over her lip, and it makes me sick with envy.

I’m only 16, which is ridiculously young, and I already feel like my life is ruined, because I have two choices, and neither of them seems great.

I can either live my silly teenage romance with Snow publicly, take him on dates and kiss him in the hallways, and lose my father, become a disgrace to my family name, and have to deal with homophobia for the rest of my life, because I’ll always be part of the Word of Mages and mages will never forget that Natasha Pitch’s son is a fag. 

Or I can hide my homosexuality, become the good husband and father I have to be, and forever live with the weight of this secret and with the knowledge that I missed out on my chance of maybe having a happy life with another man. 

Either way, I suffer. 

But choosing to hide it is the safest choice. The choice that causes the least damage.

Which is why I have to do this, I think as I meet a pretty blonde girl’s eyes. 

**…**

**Penny**

My eyes go wide when they fall on Baz Pitch.

He looks… Well-shagged. There’s no other way to put it. His hair is mussed, his shirt is tucked in his pants completely, but it’s obvious that he tucked it in quickly because the buttons are not forming a perfect straight line from his Adam’s apple to the middle of his belt buckle. He has a contended look on his face, and part of a pink lipstick mark on the very edge of the collar of his shirt. Whoever put it there probably aimed for his neck and accidentally brushed his clothes.

The mark might as well have been bright red or neon yellow, on the pure white of his shirt…

It makes me sick to my stomach to see it.

Not that I would normally care about crossing paths with Baz Pitch right after he had some time alone with someone. If you start being bothered by people still lost in post-coital bliss, you can’t walk anywhere in school during the weekend.

No, what bothers me is that Simon told me a few days ago that he was dating Baz, and that the chances that he’s the one who put lipstick there are close to zero… 


	47. Chapter Forty Seven

**Niall**

I told Baz it was a stupid idea but he never listens.

I hope he at least  _ warned  _ Snow of what he was doing…

“How do you know that girl, by the way?” I ask, tilting my chin in her direction.

She’s sitting on the floor next to us, as far as she can while still being hidden by the **Nothing to see here** Baz cast on us, loud pop music playing in her earphones, probably so that she wouldn’t hear us talking. 

She isn’t even aware of the spell -she’s a Normal, Baz was careful- she only knows to sit there because he told her to.

If I was her, I’d be puzzled as to why Baz doesn’t at least want her to pretend she’s touching him since we’re out in the open and could be seen, but she most likely doesn’t care. Besides it’s true that we’re not exactly in a part of town where people go to have a walk. However we’re probably not the first people ‘having sex’ here. It’s actually a rather famous spots for Watford students interested in the thrill of fucking in public places. 

“I shagged her father,” Baz answers bluntly.

My hand clenches around his hair, accidentally pulling it. He groans. “Be careful, you brute.”

I glare at him.

“Aleister Crowley, Baz, you can’t just say things like that,” I mumble as I go back to making a mess of his hair.

I’m trying to give it that  _ sex hair  _ look, which shouldn’t be  _ that  _ hard because I know what Baz looks like after he’s been writhing and sweating on a bed with hands in his hair. Though technically if he was doing what he’s trying to make people believe he’s doing, he would be doing it against a wall and not in a bed, but the hands in his hair would still do the same thing, right?

Merlin, the things I wouldn’t do for that fucker.

“You asked,” he answers flatly.

“Yeah, and the answer you gave me was bullshit. How does you fucking that girl’s dad, which, by the way,  _ gross _ , correlates to her accepting to pretend you fucked  _ her. _ ”

Baz untucks his shirt and undoes a few buttons at the bottom.

“Well, she…” he clears his throat, clearly embarrassed. “ _ found out _ , and uh, let’s just say that she wasn’t sure whether or not I was over the age of consent and I didn’t exactly tell her I was 16 and not 15. You know how I look ; rich, spoiled kid. She must have thought  _ my  _ dad would press charges against  _ her  _ dad, and I told her that that could be avoided if she did me a favour, when I would need her to. I didn’t know  _ what  _ that favour would be when I suggested that, but she accepted and so here we are.”

He says that very calmly, as if that entire thing wasn’t completely morally wrong.

“Let me get this straight…” I say, pinching his cheeks to make them pink. “You blackmailed that girl into doing whatever you would ask her to in exchange for your silence.”

He buttons his shirt, before messily tucking it back in his trousers and buckling his belt.

“Yeah.”

“You’re a horrible person.”

He shrugs, clearly not bothered in the slightest. 

“I know. At least my secret is safe. She doesn’t want anyone to know her father fucked a minor, and I don’t want anyone to know I fucked her dad and not her. Mutual help. I have something on her, she has something on me. Mutual threat. It balances out nicely.”

I roll my eyes. I can’t believe him sometimes.

I step back to look at him.

The hair is alright. His shirt looks just messy enough. Thanks to my pinching them, his cheeks are flushed -well, flushed for Baz. There’s something wrong though…

“Your lips,” I tell him when it hits me. He frowns. “You don’t look like you just snogged someone as you passionately fucked them against a wall, Basilton,” I say, very dramatically. 

He’s the one who rolls his eyes this time.

“And what do you want me to do about that? You’re not going to kiss me to make them look right, are you?” he teases, an amused glint in his eyes.

In all honesty, if this were happening a few weeks ago, I would probably have kissed him to make it believable. There are worse things I could be doing than kissing him. But now… Well, I’m not going to do that to Dev. He probably wouldn’t care, but I’m much too happy to be dating him to fuck it up by kissing someone else, even if the someone else in question is just Baz. 

“Bite your lips and stop being annoying, Basilton,” I say, sighing. “And don’t bite too hard. It would be strange if you had teeth marks.”

To my surprise, he simply obeys, playing with his bottom lip to make it look more swollen and give it a redder tint.

As he does that, I reach inside my pocket and take out a small tube of lipstick. A pinkish thing, that I wore excessively in second year. I haven’t worn it since, but I have put it on both Baz and Dev -I’m sure Dev would look devastatingly good with makeup on, but he ‘doesn’t trust me putting that shit on his face’. 

The colour doesn’t show much on the lips -once again, I was just 12 when I wore it, my mum would have murdered me if I went for something too visible- but on the white collar of Baz’s shirt, the pink will be quite flashy. 

Once I’ve applied the lipstick, I look back at him. “May I dirty your shirt, my good sir?”

He snorts.

“You may, milord,” he answers in the same joking, pompous voice, making a smile spread on my lips.

He throws his head back to give me easier access to his neck, and I carefully position my lips to kiss his shirt only partly, to make it look like someone meant to kiss his neck and accidentally got their lips on his collar. 

I step back one last time, surveying the work that has been done.

It doesn’t look as natural as when he hurried out of my room before my mum came home, mere minutes after dirtying my bedsheets, because it’s  _ not  _ natural, but it’s good enough that it’s believable. 

He hands me a tissue to wipe the lipstick off my lips, which I slip inside my pocket once it’s stained with pink. 

“Before I leave,” I say, because part of his plan includes me leaving before him and his ‘girlfriend’ so that it doesn’t look like we were together. “I have  _ one  _ question.”

He leans against the wall, crossing his arms on his chest. “Go on.”

_ “Why would you fuck that girl’s dad?”  _ I ask, whispering hysterically, because even if his  **Silence is golden** is flawless, I’m not sure about screaming. 

He scoffs, something that sounds a tad bitter.

“It felt good hearing a middle-aged man tell me nice things, for once. And, you know, he was hot.”


	48. Chapter Forty Eight

**Simon**

_ Fuck Greek. _

No matter how hard I try, I never understand anything. I already struggle enough with reading  _ English _ , so those fucking letters that make no sense can go fuck themselves.

Why is that thing even on the syllabus? We learn Greek but not Latin, shouldn’t we learn Latin too? Anyway, both are equally as  _ useless  _ because they’re both dead languages. Penny says it’s important because we learn where some of the words we use come from and blah blah blah but I still think it’s bullshit.

I end up throwing my textbook across the room because sometimes you have to choose your sanity over homework. 

It falls open on the floor and I wince. The pages are not gonna like that. They’ll probably be bent. Maybe ripped. Penny’s going to murder me when I ask her to fix it for me.

_ But  _ that’s a problem for another day. For now I can just… stop.

Lie down on the bed and stop writing things that I know are mostly wrong. My wrist is sore, I’ve been rubbing it in between each sentence I wrote by the end of the afternoon, and stretching my fingers too.

Close my eyes and stop thinking. I’m not Penny, studying a lot like I did today, it makes my head hurt, which is well ridiculous and makes me feel like shit. I’m pretty sure most people can do homework without feeling exhausted like I do now. I swear, it’s more tiring to try and focus on schoolwork for hours on end than it is to defeat monsters. 

Absentmindedly, I take Baz’s pillow and start holding it as I turn around to lay on my side. It smells a bit like him, it’s nice, and I like having something to hug.

Usually, it’s my blanket, when it’s not too hot for me to press it against my chest.

I wish it could be Baz, but I don’t know if we’ve reached the point where it’s okay to cuddle at night. We still both sleep on our own side of the double bed we -Baz- spelled from our two single beds, though Baz’s arm or leg occasionally ends up across my body. If I’ve gotten used to sleep taking as little room and moving as little as possible, it’s the complete opposite for him.

It would be irritating if it wasn’t so cute to see Baz Pitch with his arms and legs spread out, the covers a mess around his body and his lips slightly parted. 

I smile like an idiot at the memory. Baz can be so adorable when he isn’t controlling every tiny movement he makes. 

Baz…

I sigh.

I hope he’ll be back soon. 

Just as I think that, as if my thinking about him had summoned him, the door of the room opens.

Well, I guess I’ll rest later.

I sit back up, my eyes flying to the door.

He looks a mess, for Baz.

I knew he would, he told me his plan. Which is a weird plan, by the way, and honestly not a good idea in my opinion, but if it can make him stop flirting with half of the female population over the age of 15 of this school, I’m not going to complain about it.

I remember what I said about cornering him before he could take a shower when he’d come back to the room, and decide to do good on that promise. 

_ I  _ want to be the reason his hair is mussed and his shirt not perfectly tucked in his trousers. 

A smirk grows on his lips as I head towards him, and I kiss it off as soon as I’m close enough to, my hands pulling his shirt up to touch his cold skin.

He’s particularly cold now, since he was outside and didn’t close his coat. 

The feeling of my warm palm must be a good one because he moans softly into the kiss, pressing himself against me more. 

_ Good. _

He pulls back before me, looking at me with amusement in his eyes.

“Happy to see me, Snow?”

“Let’s say that you’re  _ slightly  _ more pleasant to look at than my homework.”

His eyes gleam even more.

“Only slightly?”

“Only slightly,” I confirm, making him snort.

He shakes his head too, a smile tugging at his lips as he lazily rests his arms on my shoulders.

“Well, you’re  _ only slightly  _ more interesting than the girl who sat in silence as Niall and I tried to make me look like this,” he answers.

I chuckle. “Good to know.” Then, more seriously, as my hands start rubbing his stomach, almost mechanically. “Was it useful, at least? Did people see you?”

He nods. “Loads of people did. And Dev and Niall played their part well too. The people sitting around the tables near us must have overheard us talk about the ‘girl I just fucked’, if they paid attention,” he says, scrunching his nose at the end, as if fucking a girl is the worst thing that could happen to him.

Which I don’t exactly understand. He must have fucked that girl, Eliza, if he talked about how bad she was in bed while breaking up.

I chase that thought. I don’t want to think about Baz fucking some girl.

“So you’re going to stop flirting now, right?” I ask, because I need to hear him say it one more time, just to be sure.

He nods. “Yes.” He leans in to kiss my forehead. It’s soft, and quite tender too, and it makes my stomach feel all weird. “Sorry again about that. I’ve been a jerk,” he whispers against my skin. I shiver.

“I mean, kind of, but it’s okay. It’s over now,” I answer when I have the ability to  _ talk  _ again, shrugging.

“It’s over,” he repeats, sounding quite pleased by that. 

He winds his arms around my neck, before moving back just enough to look at me. We’re so close I have to tilt my head up, and he has to lower his. I’m sure he’s doing it on purpose. He likes making me look up at him.

“But,” he continues, as his fingers play with the short hair at the base of my neck. “I still want to do a little something, to make it up to you.”

That gets me interested, while also making my cheeks flush. Baz thought about something for  _ me _ ? To apologize for making me feel like shit with his flirting?

“What is it?” I ask, maybe a bit too eagerly, but in my defense, no one has ever given me a surprise.

My enthusiasm makes him laugh softly. “You’ll see. We have to wait for nightfall. For now…” He turns his head to look at something, and I follow his gaze, blushing more when I see my poor Greek textbook on the floor. “Do you by any chance need help with your homework?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tricked you didn’t I... you really thought Baz hadn’t told Simon about his (STUPID, I’ll give you that) plan...


	49. Chapter Forty Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here, have Simon and Baz doing homework together because I’m a sucker for that

**Penny**

I don’t know what I should do. 

The logical option seems to be to talk about it with Simon. That’s what a good friend should do, right? But at the same time… I don’t know, I suppose I just don’t want him to be hurt. I can’t for the life of me think of another explanation for Baz’s appearance as he walked back from town, but maybe there  _ is  _ one. Some twisted explanation that only makes sense because Baz Pitch is concerned.

I sigh.

Today was supposed to be a  _ good day.  _ I love Saturday afternoons, I get to go to the bookshop in town and then drink a nice hot chocolate in that cute café  _ far  _ from the bar where most Watford students go. It’s time I save for  _ myself _ , because as much as I love Simon, spending all of my free time with him can feel stifling, and now instead of relaxing and enjoying myself I’m sick with worry because my best friend most likely got cheated on. 

Aleister Crowley, why did Simon have to make  _ Baz Pitch  _ an even more significant part of his life? The two of them are nothing but trouble when they’re together, no matter  _ how  _ they’re together. 

Baz is fire and Simon is a bomb. It  _ can’t  _ work out without any damage.

**…**

**Simon**

Forget what I said about Greek. Greek is my favourite subject. I adore Greek. I want to have Greek homework every day.

The words sound so beautiful when they roll off Baz’s tongue. When he says a full sentence, it sounds a bit like music. 

And I understand.

Well not all of it, but I definitely understand more than when I have to read stuff. The Minotaur doesn’t spell words out and repeat them multiple times slowly like Baz does. 

Thanks to his help, I’ve been able to translate two whole sentences on my own, which is really big for me. 

Now, we’re done with Greek, and Baz is suggesting to check if I’ve done my Poli Sci homework correctly. It’s the class I hate the most, before Greek. Poli Sci is all about reading long, complicated texts with long, complicated words that make me more confused than anything else and having to write long, complicated answers to long, complicated questions. It’s everything I hate about school. 

Baz, of course, is as excellent in Poli Sci as he is in every other subject, so it’s not too big of a problem for him to review my homework. Or at least that’s what he just said. 

“You sure you don’t mind? ‘s not like I’m not used to having shit grades, I don’t really care if I failed that assignment. No matter how hard I try I never seem to get the answers right anyway,” I say, a bit bitterly.

It’s so  _ frustrating. _

I  _ want  _ to do good, I  _ want  _ to give back papers full of right answers, but I  _ suck.  _ It makes me want to stop trying sometimes, but Penny says that if I keep persevering even when I get bad grades, it’ll pay off someday. It’s been 6 years, and it still hasn’t.

“ _ That’s  _ why I want to help you. You don’t lack motivation. I’m not completely sure what it is that you lack, but you want to do well, and once things are explained in a way that you understand, you  _ can  _ do well. So bring on the Poli Sci homework,” he says enthusiastically, as if this were the best thing he could be doing right now.

I smile, and then I bend myself in two trying to grab my schoolbag without moving from my spot between Baz’s legs. He’s the one who decided on that position. He says it’s easier for him to read over my shoulder if his head is  _ literally  _ over my shoulder. 

I like feeling his torso behind my back and the lazy hand he’s resting on my thigh, so I’m not complaining.

Once I manage to take my homework out of the bag, I position it in a way that makes it easier for him to read, and I look away as he does, my cheeks flushing. 

It’s so embarrassing, to have him read what I’ve done like that, especially considering that he is  _ Baz  _ and that my paper is probably full of mistakes that make him want to rip his hair off.

After some time, he clears his throat.

“I’m not going to lie, this is… average. At best. You’ve completely missed one major idea conveyed by the text, but your global understanding of the document is right, you simply probably haven’t read it enough or don’t have the comprehension skills to get the little nuances, the things shown by the style, and the subtext. And your spelling is a disaster, which is probably why you get such bad grades, most of our teachers lower your grade when you make too many spelling and grammar mistakes. But honestly, overall, it’s not as bad as I expected. I’m sure if you read the text one more time and I guided you with some of the questions, you could get a good enough grade.”

Well, at least he didn’t try to sugarcoat.

Penny is blunt about a lot of things, but she never really commented on my schoolwork. She never even mentioned my spelling, and I know Penny hates it when people have bad spelling.

But it’s not my fault words make no sense, okay? 

“Let’s read it again, then,” I sigh.

Just seeing how long the text is makes me want to give up. It’s going to take forever and Baz is going to make fun of me.

He squeezes my thigh. “Come on, Snow, we don’t have all day,” he says without bite.

I glare at him as best as I can, before turning back to my textbook.

Here we go...

**…**

**Baz**

Snow struggles with reading out loud. It’s not the first time I've noticed it. I think  _ everyone  _ has noticed it. At some point, even the teachers gave up on asking him to read in class when they interrogated someone randomly. He reads rather slowly, and he makes a lot of mistakes -reading “felt” instead of “left” for example- which make the sentence completely nonsensical, he skims over words, sometimes he even skips an entire line. It’s honestly frustrating to listen to. I want to stop him every ten seconds to make him start over. If I wasn’t making efforts not to be a prick to him, I’d probably have asked him if he knows how to read when he reaches the third paragraph.

He  _ finally  _ gets to the end of the text, and I keep myself from letting out a relieved sigh.

“Okay, so now that you’ve reread it, give me a quick summary of what the text deals with.”

Silence.

“Snow?”

“I…” He fidgets with the hem of his sleeve. “I don’t really know.”

“You don’t know?” I ask, my eyebrows shooting up. 

“No, I don’t,” he answers, irritation in his voice. I don’t think his irritation is directed at me, though. “It’s… too complicated. It’s like the words go in one ear and out the other.”

This is certainly… interesting. 

I’d have to look for an article or two before I bring it up with Snow, though. 

Besides, the spell is most often used for children, and I don’t want to hurt his pride using a spell for little kids who have a hard time reading if reading isn’t the problem. 

“Let’s try something else then, shall we?” I say, encouragingly, my fingers absentmindedly stroking his thigh. “ _ I  _ am going to read the text, and we’ll make pauses to check if you’re understanding everything, okay?”

He still has that defeated look on his face, but he nods.

“Okay.”

**…**

**Simon**

It’s  _ much easier  _ to understand when Baz is the one reading. I swear to Merlin, his voice must be magic.

**…**

**Baz**

So reading  _ is  _ the problem… Or at least part of it…

**…**

**Simon**

Baz is brutally interrupted mid-sentence by someone knocking on the door.

I glance at him over my shoulder, but he seems as clueless as I am. 

I shrug, and push my things off my lap to be able to climb off the bed and get to the door, while he hurriedly casts a spell on our bed to make it become two beds again. It’s not unlike the Mage to come here unannounced, and I wouldn’t want him to know Baz and I are a thing. 

It’s not the Mage.

It’s Penny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a random scene for a future chapter last night and omg I can’t wait to get to writing the whole chapter... and to post it...


	50. Chapter Fifty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow I’ll post two chapters, like I did today, because I have enough chapters ready to do so ^^

**Simon**

Fuck, she isn’t supposed to come when Baz is here. I mean, he knows that Penny visits me in the room sometimes, but still, that’s weird.

Besides she should be in town right now. She always is on Saturday afternoons unless she has a lot of homework to do or has a test on Monday, so what is she doing here?

“Uh, hello?”

“Hi,” she answers, and her voice sounds a little tense and hesitant, like that time she told me her mum had said no to her request to let me spend the Christmas holidays at their place. 

I step aside to let her in, frowning. My frown deepens when something that looks like anger flashes in her eyes as she lays them on Baz. Why would she be angry with Baz? She has rarely been anything but completely indifferent, when it came to him. 

“Let me handle this,” Baz says, before Penny even said anything.

Does he know what she wants? Why would he know what she wants? What the fuck is happening? Why am I the only one who seems lost?

Penny looks at Baz with eyes cutting like knives.

“I most certainly don’t want to talk to you, Basilton,” she says, in a cold voice I’ve never heard her use. “I’m here to talk to  _ Simon. _ ”

She hooks our arms at the elbow, pulling me closer to her, a gesture that makes my eyes go wide because of the unusual aspect of it. Penny and I don’t really touch.

Baz stops walking at a fair distance from Penny and I.

“Yes, and I know what you’re here to talk about,” he says flatly. “Snow, I can tell you’re confused. Bunce here saw me as I was coming back from the bar.”

“Oh!” I exclaim, as I turn my head to look at Penny. She seems furious. “So you think he cheated on me! He didn’t Pen, don’t worry.”

My voice shakes a little because of my relieved laughter. Penny’s attitude really made me worried, I thought she was here about something serious. 

Well, technically, it would be something serious if I didn’t already know about it. It makes me stupidly happy to know that she wouldn’t hesitate to come and tell me if she knew Baz had done something like this to me. 

Now she’s the one who looks confused, though, as her eyes go back and forth between Baz and his bored expression and my smiling face. 

“You… He didn’t?”

“He didn’t. Don’t worry, everything’s perfectly alright between us,” I tell her.

I wiggle my arm to free it of her grip, and resist the urge to offer my hand to Baz, to show Penny that we  _ are  _ okay. I don’t think Baz would like that kind of thing and I don’t want to make him comfortable by acting too couple-y when someone is around, even if the someone is just Penny.

“But,” she says, pointing at the collar of Baz’s shirt. “What’s that then? I don’t think  _ you  _ wear lipstick, Si.”

I giggle at that. “No, of course, it’s not that.”

“Then  _ what  _ is it?”

She sounds kind of like she did when I told her I didn’t believe giraffes and platypuses were real. Like she’s truly desperate, and like every word that comes out of my mouth is utterly ridiculous and outrageous. 

Baz’s voice rings in the room, not as beautiful as it did when we were all alone, because it’s not as soft, but still powerful enough to draw my attention to him immediately, as if he were some sort of siren -I used to compare Baz to a siren. I was right, just not about what kind of siren he was. 

“I told you to let me handle this, Snow. You’re going to give your poor friend an aneurysm. Bunce, if you would let me explain, I would greatly appreciate it. I do not wish to have you in my room any longer than necessary. Snow and I have things to do.”

He makes it sound like the  _ things  _ are dirty things, making Penny cringe, when really, we’re just doing my bloody Poli Sci assignment. Bastard. 

“Hey, don’t be mean to her.”

He ignores me. Typical.

Since Penny doesn’t say anything, he starts explaining, as he shifts a little to balance his weight on one of his legs. “I do not wish for people at school to know that I am… attracted to men. But since I started flirting with girls, I couldn’t simply stop when I got together with Simon. It would have been suspicious. I needed to find… let’s say… an alibi? Something that would explain _ why  _ I’m not flirting with anyone anymore, while still keeping my sexuality a secret. Pretending I have a Normal girlfriend seemed like a good enough reason. No one can really prove whether or not I’m dating her, since she’s not someone at school, and the fact that she’s a Normal will create enough gossip to keep me safe. The best way to keep something in the shade is to bring light on something else. Everyone will be too busy being shocked that the Heir of Pitch would date someone who isn’t a mage to consider I might date someone who isn’t a girl.”

She immediately looks at me, incomprehension in her eyes.

“You’re okay with that? With him pretending he’s dating a girl?” 

I shrug.

“I’m not going to force him to come out. If he’s safer like this, I don’t mind.”

Penny shakes her head, as if I had told her something she could deny and not my honest opinion.

“But it’s… it’s like you’re his dirty little secret, like he’s ashamed of you! It isn’t right!”

**…**

**Penny**

I don’t understand how Simon could be okay with this. When he realized he was gay, he immediately owned up to it, how could he not be angry that Baz is trying his damn hardest to keep their relationship a secret? Baz’s attitude doesn’t surprise me, he’s selfish, everyone knows that, but Simon… he’s not the kind of person I would imagine accepting to be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t even have the guts to date him publicly.

**…**

**Simon**

Her words affect me more than I want them to, because they are the exact expression of the fear I’ve had since I understood that my and Baz’s relationship would be a secret one. The fear that he wants to keep it hidden because  _ I’m  _ not good enough to be seen dating him.

Which is ridiculous because I  _ know  _ that it’s his sexuality Baz wants to hide -he was already hiding it before we got together-, but fears aren’t always rational.

**…**

**Baz**

I know it wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me to hex a lady, but I have a tingly feeling in my hand, the burning desire to cast a spell on Bunce to shut her up or make her go before she says any more of those things that cause Simon’s face to lose its colour and his eyes to fill with doubt. 

I don’t hex Bunce. Instead, I use my hand for something much better, much more lovely than casting a spell. I narrow the distance between Simon and I, and thread our fingers together.

His eyes fly up to me, surprise and joy fighting inside of them. Joy seems to win, and he breaks in a smile that would have the power to melt my cold heart if the job hadn’t already been done. 

**…**

**Simon**

Baz is holding my hand. In front of Penny. I want to scream in excitement. I really thought he wouldn’t ever want to do that.

“It’s not him I’m ashamed of, it’s myself,” Baz says, completely ruining my cheerfulness with the vulnerability I can hear in his voice and see on his face. I squeeze his hand, and it seems to be enough for him to get a grip on himself and go back to his usual cold indifference. “Besides, I would appreciate it if you could keep your opinion to yourself. You  _ obviously  _ don’t know what it’s like to be in my position, or in Snow’s for that matter. If he has a problem with any aspect of our relationship, he can talk to me about it. He did, actually, when I did things that upset him. He’s a big boy, he doesn’t need you to tell him what is right and what is wrong.”


	51. Chapter Fifty One

**Baz**

“Don’t you think you were a bit harsh with her?” Snow asks once Bunce is gone and our beds are back together, with us sitting on them.

I don’t know if we’ll finish his homework this evening.

I reach out, holding my palm out, a silent invitation. I’m not sure he’ll take it. We’ve been quite close, physically, while we were working on his Greek and Political Science, he might need to back down on the physical contact now.

I’d  _ rather  _ he needs space now than later tonight…

He looks at my hand for a second, then holds it. I squeeze it. 

He’s so warm. But not the unpleasant kind of warm when people’s hands are sweaty. He’s just… warm. 

“No. You’re not a child, Snow, she doesn’t have to baby you like she does. Besides, I didn’t like hearing her judge us… no, judge  _ me _ .”

“Hm. Still. I didn’t like that you were mean to her,” he mumbles, looking down at his lap. “I mean I don’t expect you to suddenly become friends with her but you know… if she comes to the room and you’re here too, I’d like it if you could… not be a prick.”

I let out a heavy sigh, as my thumb strokes Simon’s hand slowly.

“I don’t mind Bunce as long as she minds her business. If she starts saying things I don’t like, I’m not going to shut up and let her, Snow. If she wants to criticize me and our relationship, she can do it when I’m not around.”

This time Snow is the one who sighs, but instead of trying to argue, he grabs his Political Science textbook with his free hand.

“Let’s just continue that, alright?”

Well, I suppose we  _ are  _ going to finish his homework this evening then.

**…**

“What about dinner?” 

Crowley, Simon Snow and his appetite.

“Snow, can you focus on what we’re doing please?”

We’re working on the last question of the assignment, can’t he  _ wait _ ?

“But Baz,” he says, pointing at the clock. “It’s almost too late to go to the dining hall. As much as I  _ love  _ your sandwiches, I didn’t eat much for lunch and I’m  _ famished _ .”

I roll my eyes. He’s impossible.

I pat his shoulder, making him groan because he knows I’m taking the piss out of him. 

“I have dinner handled Snow, don’t worry. You’ll eat, and it won’t be sandwiches. You’ll be fine. Just finish your homework, okay? We’re almost done, you’ve done a great job so far, it would be a pity to give up now.”

He blushes slightly at the praise. He mustn’t be used to being told he’s done a good job, when it comes to schoolwork… which annoys me, honestly, because he isn’t stupid if he’s presented things in a way that works for him, as he’s proven all afternoon. Unfortunately, the scholar system at Watford doesn’t make it easy to succeed for anyone who isn’t able to digest and retain information the way I do. It was something my mother was working on, changing some of the methods here, but of course, she could never achieve anything…

Maybe if I had been old enough to become Headmaster after her instead of that imposter, I could have brought her ideas to life. Made things easier for kids like Snow, and so many other students, who aren’t made for traditional education. 

Snow clicks his pen with a long-suffering look on his face. “Okay, let’s get this over with. But whatever food you have ‘handled’ better be good, Basilton,” he says, threatening me with his pen.

I chuckle. “It will be.”

**…**

“Are we going to eat now?” Snow asks the  _ moment  _ he writes the final full stop on his assignment.

He’s flicking and rubbing his wrist very dramatically as I answer, “Yes, but you have to let me get it first.”

He groans, which makes me shake my head. 

It’s disgusting how endearing I think his current behaviour is.

What’s even more disgusting is the way I ruffle his hair while smiling at him tenderly just before I stand up.

“While I’m gone, clear your mess so that the bed isn’t full of textbooks when I come back, and also, put on warmer clothes. At the  _ very least  _ long sleeves, Snow.”

The moron is wearing a t-shirt. At the end of November. He says it’s because he wanted to be comfortable and our school shirts are  _ far _ from comfortable, but  _ still _ . How he doesn’t freeze to death is a mystery to me. The minute I came back from town, I put on a thick jumper over my shirt and I’m  _ still  _ too cold. I guess he really is a human furnace.

“What I’m doing while you’re gone is eating one of your bags of crisps,” he decrees. 

I don’t even try to tell him not to, he’s already jumping out of bed to go rummage through my drawers.

Nightmare.

**…**

**Baz**

I’m so nervous my hands are clammy when they close around the stones -always the same ones- which is potentially quite dangerous. I may be a vampire, I’m quite sure falling from this height right onto the stone floor would hurt like hell. 

Merlin, why do I worry so much? 

There’s no way Snow would  _ actually  _ hate this. I’ve been such an arse to him that me holding his hand in front of his friend made him shine like I had given him the most beautiful present, he is obviously going to like this.

Still, I’m nervous, and my hands are sweaty. 

I hold onto the stone with a better grip, and push myself up until my foot is resting on a crevice higher than the one where it was before. I repeat this same action again, and again, and again until I reach the ceiling. I take my wand out, and cast a spell to reveal the trapdoor that leads to the attic. I open it as discreetly as I can, and push myself up one more time, the cold air of the night progressively engulfing me. That place isn’t as well isolated as the rest of the tower...

Then, I make quick work of preparing everything, being as silent as possible. 

And my hands are still as clammy. 

**…**

**Simon**

Whatever Baz is doing, it’s taking forever. I try not to be irritated by that, even if I’m hungry and the few crisps I’ve swallowed didn’t really solve that problem, because he told me he had a surprise for me and I  _ can’t  _ complain about a surprise. 

To keep busy, I decide to do what he told me to do. I’ve already put my textbooks and papers back in my bag, and my bag back against the wall, near the door, but I haven’t changed yet. 

I wonder why he wants me to change. I’m not delusional enough to think he’s taking me somewhere, so I don’t understand why I would possibly need to dress in more weather-appropriate clothes, I’m perfectly fine with my t-shirt. However, it’s not like he asked something impossible of me, so I comply.

I don’t have many clothes, save for my Watford uniform, pyjamas, and the clothes I came to school with, but I do have this jumper Agatha’s parents gifted me for Christmas last year.

There isn’t going to be a Christmas at the Wellbelove’s this year, I think a bit bitterly as I dress up. 

I shake my head. No negative thoughts. Baz is preparing something for me. My  _ boyfriend  _ has a surprise for me, to apologize for being a bit of a jerk lately. It’s great. I’m not going to ruin my own mood. 


End file.
